Apicem Rapax
by Ripsi
Summary: "The bird of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame." Lord Spencer has many plans for Wesker but Claire Redfield wasn't one of them. The balance of power is becoming more unstable as more and more unexpected players enter the game. (Alternate Universe & vampires).
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A/N: Just in time for Halloween. Yes, I know that I have three stories already going on but hey, why not! There's a hint in the summary to tell you what kind of story this will be.

Extended Summary: Lord Spencer's return has been plaguing the citizens of Raccoon City with misfortune and Claire Redfield has become an unintended victim. After a traumatic incident at Spencer's Halloween party she begins to see that there is more to the mysterious man than anyone ever could have imagined. Immortality was never his goal, it was the perfect weapon, and soon he will have both. As Albert Wesker becomes less human it is becoming harder for him to control his new appetite, and he and Claire are unable to resist one another.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. I don't own any other mentioned copyrighted foods, vehicles, or items. I only own this story and the original characters I created.

Apicem Rapax

"The bird of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame."

October 9th, 2014

11:52 AM

"You hear about the things that make a carnivore a carnivore, but do we really know the differences? What are the big physical and physiological differences between a predator and its prey?"

Furiously I tapped the eraser of my pencil against my blank notebook page, hating that I bothered to even purchase one for this class. I'd heard the horrors of undergrad but I paid no mind to my elders, figuring that there was no way it was worse than Grad school or senior year. Oh God I was wrong. I had arrived to class late today, ending up squeezing through a tightly packed row in the dead center of the left side of the room. There were probably two hundred students in this class so this was the worst thing that could've happened to me. Everything I did seemed magnified but I was so bored that I didn't really care too much. This is something that seemed to annoy the Thai student seated against the wall right next to me as he tried to ignore the thumping of my pencil by clicking away loudly on his laptop. A smart girl would've tried not to annoy him so she could get a copy of his notes but I genuinely didn't give six shits if I understood this or not. I'd heard Dr. Hogue's tests were impossible to pass so he just gave a curve every exam and regardless of your grade by the end of the semester he would still knock you up to a C to avoid losing his job. Plus, he was reading off of his PowerPoint so it's not like I could miss anything when we had no required text to reference to when filling out our study guide.

The second day of class, and I already want to kill myself, I thought miserably.

Luckily though I only had three classes that kept me on campus for a few hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I just did whatever I felt like which was usually helping out at the bike shop where I would find some interesting parts. My parents didn't want me working during this school year but I feel it had less to do with my studies and more to do with the last two part-time failures I had. Still, if they were willing to foot the bill for my living expenses that was fine by me. It wasn't like either of them were home enough to even run up a utility bill or eat the food that would've grown hair if I wasn't there to eat it. I had the option to live with Chris once but I didn't see much of a point to it when I'd have more rules and a strict curfew to endure with him. I'd stick to watching Netflix in my room all day and inviting over Amanda when I was lonely just so we could gossip and take half-naked selfies to post online with fake Twitter and Instagram accounts. It was amazing how many followers you could gain with nothing but silly hashtags and provocative photos, and even more amazing how many men felt the need to send DMs requesting phone numbers and total nudes.

"Herbivores' teeth are more suited for grinding leaves while…"

More elementary science lessons. I hated that I even zoned back in to see what was going on here.

"Of course we all know that carnivores have teeth meant to help them catch their prey and tear into flesh. So let's focus on carnivores for a second. Let's start with apex predators. Who can name a few?"

"Sharks!"

"Alligators!"

"Lions!"

As I squiggled absent-mindedly in my notebook I said a bit too loudly, "Us."

The classroom grew quiet and I felt all eyes on me as if I'd said something terribly stupid, and though I knew that I was right I looked up at Dr. Hogue nervously.

"What was that?"

Putting my pencil down, I glanced around the classroom, hating that not everyone had turned their attention back to the front. "Well," I started, "we're human. We're the ones who discovered fire, utilized electricity, and have the guns. We have farms dedicated to raising animals so we can slaughter and eat them. We won."

Dr. Hogue bit his bottom lip and nodded in agreement, clicking the remote to change slides. Guess I struck a nerve with the truth. Nothing was going to take our spot at the top of the food chain. Nothing.

12:57 PM

"Mom!" To be honest I didn't know if she was even home, but it was always normal to assume such when someone's car was out front right? Wrong. "Mom?!" Dr. Charlotte Redfield was constantly in the back of taxis that escorted her to and from airports and hotels. She was a popular plastic surgeon with clients that wished to remain anonymous and couldn't be seen jetting out to Raccoon City to head over to the Redfield/Donovan Practice where rich girls came out with smaller noses and Kardashian asses. Sometimes I hated my mother's success; her constant traveling left me with no choice but to watch the news to figure out what was happening. It was a small reason but it made her feel useful. "Mom!" I yelled angrily, dropping my backpack in the dining room as I stomped forward to the kitchen.

"What?" So she was ignoring me?

With a sigh of aggravation I stepped over the threshold and saw her turn on the water and once I could tell that she was prepping dinner I realized that she must have had few days off. I saw a thick bun of hair secured atop her head with a black, elastic band that contrasted with her platinum, bleached hair. I hated her hair like that, but being a giver of beauty she felt pressured to chase the standards herself. Oh well, I had tried to be a good daughter and tell her that bottle blondes were out in 2014. I guess her brain was still swirling with confusion by all the ass shots she was giving to make women look like hippos below with the fat she took from their waists to make them look like toothpicks above. It was only a matter of time before my mom blew up eight jean sizes, got a fake tan, and dyed her hair darker when naturally it had been so.

I pulled an Oreo from the pack sitting on the counter behind me and took a bite. "What's up with all the traffic?" On my way over I'd been held up by some swanky limo that disappeared on the interstate and so I'd been in a sour mood the rest of the way home. I'll admit, the speed demon in me had emerged.

Turning around, she wiped her hands on her apron and headed over to the oven to peek inside. "Dr. Spencer is having some _grand affair_!" She threw her hands out to indicate the level of fanciness.

"The owner of that creepy, mountain manor? Aren't there wild Dobermans running loose up there?" The Spencer Estate had been abandoned briefly at one point during a snow storm a few years ago; none of the caretakers were able to check in on the animals or whatever else was hidden away in that place. Apparently though, the animals wanted to survive more than anything, and what everyone assumed to be his old guard dogs escaped and began running amok in the forest. Before, when they were behind the estate's fences and gates they were nothing to worry about, but once a dozen or so attack dogs decided to take obtaining their dinner into their own hands it was considered suicide to even step past the first tree. Some kid was attacked a few months back by what he managed to describe as a group of Doberman with undocked tails and ears, bringing the city to the conclusion that those dogs were breeding.

"Well," my mother began, leaning against the sink, "according to him the original dogs aren't feral, just refusing to return to kennel life. They're planning to have the newer generations rounded up and shipped off to the pound."

"Right." I rolled my eyes. "Anyway what's this party?" Ozwell E. Spencer wasn't really a topic of fascination for me, but he was the founder of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies in the world that just so happened to be stationed in our city. Wherever he went he dealt with only other doctors or fat cats so I knew that my mother had to be on his guest list since she was becoming more and more celebrated.

"Claire," she began sternly, knowing that this was only going to lead to me ranting about how he chose to spend his money and how she was well on her way to becoming a snobby elitist.

Pulling out another cookie I frowned at her, "What I just want to know what's happening? I figure you're going."

Her arms were now folded over her chest as she gave her motherly scowl.

"No shade!" I offered mid-bite,

The scowl became a look of bewilderment as she searched her brain for the possible meanings behind my slang and finally I think she realized that she was just going to have to pick up the meaning on her own. "It's a Halloween party," she conceded.

Another cookie in hand I muttered, "Great, he's already a foot in the grave so he doesn't even need a costume-"

"Claire!" As she walked over to me and snatched up the package of cookies I gave an innocent smirk. "I'm not getting you lipo," she spat.

Laughing at her anger I backed out of the kitchen. "I'm not even nineteen yet, I'm good!" I did make a mental note to hit the elliptical later though, but I'd make sure it was when she was asleep. No way was I looking for a mother-daughter talk on self-image. On my way upstairs I felt my phone vibrating in my back pocket. As I trudged up the stairs I pulled it out, seeing a picture of Chris passed out with a dick Sharpied onto his cheek and Mayo dripping down the side of his mouth. God that would never get old. I hit the accept button, "What's up bro?"

I could hear police chatter in the background, a sign that he was heading somewhere. It was barely two so he could only be headed to a call and that had me a little worried. "Dad home?"

I reached my bedroom and locked the door behind me. "No but mom is." Hitting the light switch I prepared to throw myself onto my bed, making sure to avoid my laptop and tablet.

"She cooking?" His interest spiked at the thought of mom cooking; it'd mean no money spent and a short break from monotony.

Smirking, I confirmed that she was. "Yes Chris, mom is cooking." When I heard more chatter in the background I remembered to ask him, "Are you on a call?" Had Chris been a regular cop I wouldn't have looked too much into it; they got called for things as simple as a missing garden hose. Chris worked for STARS, something akin to a SWAT team but they were more available for situations that involved heists or the occasional druggie threatening to blow his brains out. Recently though they'd been involved in more routine police work to fill out their days and keep them on their toes. But despite their transition into regular cop work there were scary things that happened, things that involved possible bombs at elementary schools and gunmen with plans to finally lose their shit upon a crowd. My brother's job was frightening sometimes, but I certainly wasn't going to try to stop him if this is what he wanted. College wasn't for him and every other job he'd attempted had been lost because of his attitude. Had Barry not been there to break up that fight he'd gotten into during his short stint in the Air Force Chris would've gotten worse than a discharge. So later in life his friend got the idea that STARS was perfect for him and much to the elation of all who loved Chris that was the case. Now though, we were constantly checking on him, sending random texts just to see if he was going to message us back.

"No I'm just driving."

I sighed in relief, only now noticing how much I was actually sweating at the thought that some crisis had occurred. "Why aren't you at the office?"

He mumbled something about the car in front of him and paused for a moment. "Because Captain Wesker wanted some fucking overpriced coffee and donuts. I'm just about fed up with this shit. I'm just gonna buy that fuckin coffee maker with the fancy options."

"Mom bought a new one. The old one is pretty fancy so I could get it out for you if you want?"

"You have no idea how much I'd like that."

"So I'll see you tonight then?"

"Deal.' Without a proper goodbye he hung up, and I wondered why Chris did that. It was rude but since it'd been that way since I could remember I merely considered it to be peculiar. Then again, nothing that happened in this town was to be considered normal by any means.

6:13 PM

Mom had made roasted chicken with some vegetable medley and rice. It was nowhere near the fancy dinners that she usually would prepare after being gone for so long but it was better than leftover pizza and noodles. I kept saying that I'd learn to cook and maybe it was time that I did because I was sure that my parents were tired of seeing charges to fast food places and cafes on their cards. It wasn't just me being lazy, it was me having other things that I'd rather do than stir a pot of broth and chop potatoes. I stuffed a piece of broccoli in my mouth, trying not to eat all of my stalks before the other vegetables; broccoli was one of the few vegetables that I enjoyed, disproving the lies my parents told me about growing older and learning to love all of my greens. Of course I was sure that when I hit that dreaded age of twenty-two a myriad of maladies would befall me and prompt me to finally make some lifestyle adjustments. Then it'd be bye-bye cupcakes and ice cream with a can of Mountain Dew to wash it all down and hello to pacing my ingestion of junk. I was not looking forward to one day having to decide on whether to have a soda or have cookies. I wanted it all. Oh well, until that day I'd just begrudgingly fork down the most hated vegetables and swallow them as best as I could without letting them touch my taste buds.

Chris must've noticed me forking at things in a particular order because he smiled, taking a drink of his wine.

"Claire are you sure you don't want any?" My mom knew that I drank when I was out so she didn't make a big deal about it in the house. She also knew that I didn't drink wine so she didn't feel bad at all when she offered me some around dinner time. I never saw this as an issue or felt that she was being a bad parent in allowing me to drink; she would never procure hard liquor for me and so there was nothing that she could do about me getting it on my own. It also helped that my mother came from a very European background, something that her family seemed to use as an excuse for their eccentric behaviors and habits.

As a form of reply I grimaced at her, getting a laugh out of Chris who was probably proud of me for turning down alcohol, not knowing that I was on the level of legendary, frat boys.

"I don't have a taste for wine. It makes me sick," I added before contently sipping on my Root Beer. As Chris took another bite of his chicken I noticed that he had white bandages wrapped around his knuckles, a slight rust-color staining the spots just over his knuckles. "What happened?"

For a moment he was silent, his demeanor conveying that he was going over his explanation in his head. "Gym stuff," he murmured, spearing a slice of carrot.

As if she'd just returned to the table my mother peeked over at him. "Honey!"

"It's okay!" he assured her quickly. "Captain Wesker just doesn't know the difference between sparring and Mortal Kombat." I'd heard Chris mention his captain quite a bit since he started working for STARS a year ago. None of his comments had been good as of late, and sometimes I feared that there would be another incident that would once more cost him his way of living. Now no grown man should be described as "gushing," in my mind, but it was the only word that fit Chris' reaction to his captain's praises. Over time though Chris complained of being pressured, pushed, tested, and then overworked.

To bring some laughter to the table and keep my mother from losing her shit I asked with a smirk, "So he kicked your ass?"

"Claire," my mother warned. God why was she always on my case? I wasn't going to be changing anytime soon but she continued to push her agenda of turning me Stepford.

Chris' face became serious and frankly he looked a bit down about his loss. "I know it's better for me to be pushed than to just stagnate but some days just…" My brother trailed off before he could admit that some days were too much for him to stand.

"It'll get better Chris," I assured him. "I mean aren't you guys supposed to be getting beefed up for Halloween this year or something?"

"Yeah, things have been getting a little out of hand lately."

"Oh?" My mom stopped eating as she looked at the two of us, questioning what we were talking about.

"With Dr. Spencer back security is gonna have to be tighter in some places and RPD is expecting the pranks to increase as Halloween gets closer." Chris' answer wasn't detailed enough for her but it got the point across. We were only into the second week of October but pranks were being pulled on the whole city left and right. There were tasteless Ebola jokes, empty pants and shoes placed in locked bathroom stalls, and weaves clipped to the ceilings in enclosed areas. The latter was inspired by The Grudge, and citizens weren't happy. Though those were considered to be innocent pranks there were also some of malicious intent taking place, ones that were involving beatings, robberies, and destruction to personal property. Due to our residency in a gated community with security cameras we were immune to property damage, but outside who knew what could happen? No one wanted to feel this uncomfortable in their own city but when those that you feared were sprinkled throughout the community what could you do? I felt bad for everyone who wasn't behind a gate on October 31.

October 10th, 2014

11:46 AM

Friday was my favorite day of the week: I didn't go to class, my friends took off, and it signaled the beginning of my weekend. As Amanda and Dawson argued over some text messages that had been sent to his phone I watched the trees flying by us. They weren't together so I just rolled my eyes whenever the two of them started getting into Couples' Territory. Everyone in this car believed in good, clean fun, including Ty who would through me a smirk every now and then. I met Ty through Dawson a year ago, and after about three months of being placed in the awkward position of breaking up the infamous Dawson/Amanda throw downs we found ourselves agreeing to a buddy system of sorts. Ty was good looking enough and he didn't really ever bring up the complicated issue of changing our social media statuses except for one time. I'd shut him down really quickly; a relationship wasn't what I was looking for right now, just some fun. Most of the time we spent alone involved lying in bed half-naked and baked out of our minds. He was 5'10, lean, and I usually teased him about his hair being the same as Orlando Bloom's. I liked his long curls though, and I especially like his strong jaw and chin. His set of hazel, bedroom eyes had managed to be what suckered me into this arrangement though, along with his impossibly, smooth and tan skin. God why wasn't he just a model?

Without realizing it I was staring at him, and he reached over to massage my thigh as he bit his lip. "Wait," I said loudly, something that managed to bring an end to the driver and Amanda's bickering. It also made Ty snatch his hand back from my sudden exclamation.

Almost angrily, Amanda whipped her head around, black and blonde, curled extensions flying around and whipping Dawson in the face. "What?"

"Where are we going?" Yes, I simply hopped into the 4Runner with no idea where Dawson intended on taking us. I had assumed we were heading to Denver to go shopping but then I realized that we had passed the interstate at least eight minutes ago.

"Where _are_ we going?" Amanda echoed, and as she snapped her head back in Dawson's direction I heard him groan from being hit by her hair again.

"To do some pest control," he said in a low voice. One of his hands flew up to his short, blond hair quickly, the usual sign that whatever he was up to wasn't good.

Before I could get another word in he pulled over onto the side of the road, stopping suddenly, and the gravel crunched violently beneath the tires. I looked to Ty who was already unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the vehicle. Amanda and I looked at one another, hearing Dawson and Ty go around to the trunk. We jumped out, following them around to the back of the 4Runner, and I stopped in my tracks at the sight of them loading a pair of rifles. "What are those for?"

As he pointed the barrel into the trees, Dawson muttered, "Just like we said all right?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Amanda shrieked, and as she tried to reach for Dawson he began to walk past her, Ty following close behind.

We jogged to catch up to the two of them, stopping in front of the chain meant to keep people out of the woods. Two rusted, metal poles suspended the chain in the air with a yellow and black sign dangling in the middle that read, "Danger, Keep Out!" On either side of the poles there was nothing but the road barrier, as if that was enough to keep people from entering or anything else from leaving. The trees weren't immediately dense, instead they become so gradually, making it impossible to see what it looked like 300 feet in, yet fooling you for the first couple hundred feet. I heard them preparing their guns again, and I was determined to stop this nonsense before they started.

"Guys you can't go in there!" I provided no reason in my exclamation because it was obvious why no one should step foot in that forest. It was on the news all the time, it was the fear of the townspeople that one day the feral dog population would spill over into the city, endangering everyone. They couldn't just take things into their own hands.

Scowling at me Dawson took a step forward, a move meant to intimidate. "Look Claire, the city is offering good money for every dead dog we bring back. So I suggest you just move." As he stepped around me I saw Ty throw me a glance that was bordering on apologetic, but I couldn't be too sure. Their lives couldn't be worth whatever the city was offering in this –more than likely- underground deal to rid the woods of the dogs. I know that Dawson took care of himself and that sometimes he was overworked at his job at the plant plus schoolwork, but I never thought that he'd be willing to turn to such work before his own parents.

Pleadingly I looked to Ty, hoping that he'd say something to stop his friend, but once again he only stared down at me before turned towards the woods.

"Fuck this!" Amanda ran back towards the 4Runner, sliding into the passenger's seat in a flash.

I threw her a glare of disapproval, refusing to give up trying to stop them myself. In that instant though they were already stepping over the caution sign, far more confident than they should've been. Torn between the safety of the vehicle and their own wellbeing I looked between the boys and the stationary SUV a few times before groaning to myself and crossing over the chain. I ignored the pieces of wet grass that would cling to my brown, faux-suede boots, keeping a close eye on the two boneheads that were stomping towards a line of trees without looking around or even listening for what they were hunting. As they stopped I hoped that maybe they were having second thoughts, and I took this opportunity to walk up to them with the intention of once more letting them know that this was a bad idea.

"Guys?" I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jackets, looking from one face to the other. They were both silent, staring straight ahead into the darkness beyond the trees intently, and then it dawned on me that these two had realized the importance of stealth a bit too late.

A dark figure was hunched over, barely visible under the veil of the braches that hung so low that they looked like they would snap from the weight of the leaves. I couldn't speak, and I think it was actually a good idea that I didn't.

As I saw Dawson raise his rifle out of the corner of my eye I heard a low rumble that I could feel in my chest, disrupting the regular rhythm of my heart. My first instinct was to take a step back, to inch towards the road away from danger, but something else inside of me chimed in that it would be suicide to attempt to move a single muscle.

As Ty lifted his rifle the rumbling grew even louder, too loud to be that far away from us. Slowly I looked to my left, feeling a small and pathetic squeak manage to escape my throat, a noise so pitiful that dog staring me down seemed to take delight in my fear. The dog took a step forward, his long canines bared. His black and tan hair was shaggy and dirty, a slap in the face to the line of the breed. His floppy ears twitched as he picked up sounds of the forest from every direction, but his main target was what he had managed to make visual contact with.

I managed to steal a look at Ty from my peripheral, seeing that he was wide-eyed and very aware that he was fucked. My throat had become dry as I didn't even dare to so much as swallow, and my lip began to quiver as the dog's long tail wagged for just a moment. I knew better than to begin calling for him sweetly though, especially since his lips were being pulled even farther back over his white fangs. Beneath his disgusting coat I knew there were muscles that would propel him forward easily, and I knew that his breed would ensure a very powerful bite force. Without being able to see those muscles though, I couldn't predict his move. There was a sound in front of us, twigs snapping and leaves being crushed by the rough pads of the feral dogs. I couldn't help but turn to look as I saw Ty out of the corner of my eye take aim, the suppressed rifle shot was barely audible but I heard the dog cry out in a sharp and high pitched whine. The sound of leaves rustling to my left made me remember the other Doberman, and when I turned to look I saw a massive, black body flying in my direction.

As I reflexively turned away, sinking to the ground I thought to myself that this was it. Soon this predator would be upon me, tearing into me before anyone could get him off. My eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could manage while I waited to feel eighty-eight pounds of muscle crash down upon me, but it never came. I tried to pry my eyes open despite what I knew I would see, but as I heard screaming to my left they snapped open, the sight before me leaving me frozen in place. We were going to die out here.

Never had I heard such noises from a dog. They snarled, they growled, and when their mouths snapped shut I was reminded of the ease with which they could rip flesh from a man. I heard screaming, rustling of leaves, and as the noise around me continued I realized that I wasn't being dragged on the forest floor like a ragdoll. Despite my fear of doing so I pried my eyes open, immediately met with the sight of Ty holding off a dog with the barrel of his rifle. He yelled obscenities and commanded the wild Doberman to get off of him, but the beast did not mind him due to being incapable of understanding and quite possibly apathy. To my left Dawson was screaming in agony, kicking at his attacker as the dog continued to snap at his calf. He began to punch the dog with his free hand with all of his might, but the mutt wouldn't let go and it seemed to not to be phased by his attacks. As I sat there in the leaves, helpless and on the verge of tears, I saw Dawson's rifle lying just three feet away from me and as I saw the Doberman clamp down onto his arm out of the corner of my eye I threw myself onto the weapon. With the rifle in my hand I shot up into a defensive stance, taking aim at the dog whose jaws were still locked around the barrel of Ty's gun. Aiming at its abdomen I took in a deep breath, preparing myself for the recoil and for the possibility that I could miss. Remembering what Chris taught me I steeled myself, feeling my finger squeeze the trigger slowly. I felt the recoil of the rifle as the bullet exploded from the chamber.

The dog atop Ty gave a high-pitched whine, almost immediately falling onto its side. Without thinking about it I then turned the gun onto the Doberman that was still angrily biting into Dawson's leg, hearing my brother's voice. "Claire, never hesitate." Once more I shot the gun, this bullet hitting the dog in the side of the head, giving him a quick death.

"Ah! Fuck!"

Lowering my gun, I looked back at Ty who was already trying to help his friend to his feet. Pointing my rifle down towards the earth I darted over to help by holding Dawson up. He continued to groan and curse as I kept throwing glances back at the trees, trying to make sure that we hadn't attracted more attention. I could barely feel the injured male's weight on me as my body was flooded with such a high surge of adrenaline that I couldn't feel the wind on my face or the his tight grip. I was in survival mode, something that I had only read about and prayed that I would never experience firsthand. Yet, there was something about this that made me feel… good. I was enjoying the rush I was getting from this, the way my pulse sped up and my body became hotter. This was what I felt the first time I rode a bike. Before I could scold myself for getting some sick sense of pleasure from all of this pandemonium I saw the black 4Runner just ahead, our salvation.

Amanda was bobbing her head and drumming her fingers on the dashboard while a pair of white cords dangled from her ears. As we reached the SUV I kicked on the door with more force than needed, but it was obviously enough force to cause a loud enough sound to get her attention. Her face twisted in horror as she realized that we were holding Dawson up and she unlocked the doors for us.

The blonde continued to curse and scream as Ty and I worked to get him into the backseat. As soon as I saw that Ty had most of his friend's body inside of the truck I handed him the rifle that I had been clutching and ran over to the driver's side.

"What happened?" Amanda's shrieking was the least of my worries.

I looked back to see Ty closing the door behind him, and I turned the key in the ignition, hearing the engine turn over.

"Claire?"

With a quick glance behind me I put the car in drive and almost stomped on the gas to make the U-Turn. As the SUV shook everyone yelled in protest, but they instantly quieted at the sight of a feral Doberman emerging from the trees on the side of the road.

Pouty lips parted, Amanda asked, "So they're fucking real?"

Ignoring her moment of stupidity I once more stomped on the gas, quickly getting up to eighty-five without regard for any cops that may have been lurking. They would be very welcome at this moment as a matter of fact. It took me about five minutes to get back to the city and two to get to the hospital. By then Dawson had stopped his whining and began telling the story to Amanda who said, "Fuck my seatbelt," and was leaning over him in awe of what she perceived to be courageousness. It was stupid is what it was, but I would have a talk with her about that later before she fell even more in love with the idiot who had the intention of endangering us all for four hundred bucks a dog (a payday that wasn't even worth it). All I could think to myself was, I hope Chris doesn't find out about this.

1:38 PM

Hospitals were the worst places on the face of the earth. There was life, death, misery, joy, feelings of both relief and doom all in one place, and the emotions in the air all swirled together to form that lump of dread that nestled into your ribcage when you visited. Dawson had been patched up, the worst was over for him in terms of his leg. Amanda and Ty were with him in his room, undoubtedly kissing his ass when it was his own moronic idea that put him here. I'd gotten a hug and a pat on the arm as a form of thanks from them, not the parade that Dawson was being thrown in his room. Then again he would get all the scolding and doses of reality he needed when his mother and aunt got here, and for a moment I thought about getting some sweet revenge on him: I could claim the eight hundred dollars since I'm the one that killed two of those mutts.

"Claire?"

For a second I thought I heard someone calling my name but I just chalked it up to me having a moment of crazy. It was bound to occur with everything that had happened already. It wasn't even three o'clock.

"Claire!"

That feeling of being caught with your hand in the cookie jar came over me, and I felt like a child again. More than anything I wished that I could sink into the uncomfortable chair that I was occupying, but instead I just tried to ignore Chris' bellowing voice in hopes that he'd just completely miss me as he stomped through the sitting area. Chris would undoubtedly overreact about this whole thing and the fact that I didn't have a ride home only made me dread being found even more. Like it would help, I covered my eyes with my hand, embarrassed although no one was there to see the spectacle that would ensue.

"Claire!" He barked, so close to me that it sounded like he was yelling right into my ear.

Slowly I turned around to see my red-faced brother, veins visible just beneath the skin under of his neck, and I thought about just turning back around to pretend that he wasn't there. Dear God, I thought. It would've been nice if I could think of something to say to him, but everything I was coming up with in my mind failed to meet the requisites for the occasion. Apologizing was so unnecessary since I'd done nothing wrong myself and in fact I'd merely been trying to be a good friend by getting the dipsticks to change their minds. I wouldn't begin the exchange by offering him an explanation; I owed him none. I was an adult who made a decision to follow Ty and Dawson into the woods, and in the end that turned out to be for the better since they would've wound up dead anyhow. The more I thought about it the more it seemed things would work out in my favor if I were to remind Chris of the things that did occur and horrible possibilities that did not. Bingo.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded angrily.

In response to his aggressive approach I felt it was only appropriate to stand up and be defensive rather than sit there and take the verbal lashing that he'd probably not prepared. One thing I knew about those rants was this: the things said were often hurtful if they weren't planned. "Chris calm down!"

Shaking his head he yelled back, "Don't you tell me to calm down! I had to hear this from one of the security guards up here! You could've been killed!"

"But I wasn't!" Thankfully no one was present to witness our argument, but I was sure that in the nurses' station, beyond the closed set of doors that they heard everything.

"That doesn't make it-"

"It wasn't my idea!" I threw my hands up in the air in frustration, but when Chris didn't say anything else I also felt relief. Cool, sweet relief swept over me upon seeing his features soften as his ego was slightly bruised by my audacity to go right back at him. "I followed them to stop them. Then we got attacked and I saved them." The calm tone of my voice did not match the fury with which I had spoken with just previously, and I felt confused myself. One second I had been throwing facts at him and now I was offering them. Perhaps it was how his mouth was no longer set into a frown that made me unconsciously desire to assure him that it was okay. Yet this was counterproductive to me seeing as assurance to Chris meant remembering that he was the one to dominate the conversation and that he was the decider of what was right and wrong. In assuring my brother I had let him know that I would still answer to him rather than be viewed as an equal with opinions just as important as his own. This was always an issue with my brother and it seemed it would carry over to every man I ever came in contact with.

I might as well have apologized to him.

2:07 PM

I'd been instructed to stay at my Chris' desk, not to touch anything, and in short to be extremely bored. I'd never been up here before, but it wasn't like there was much to see. I felt like I was on the set of SVU when everyone else had gone home, and it wasn't as great as you'd think it would be when you were told to keep your hands folded in your lap. There was a nice, sleek desktop on the desk in front of me but I was told that I couldn't be searching the web; Chris would get in trouble if the chief found out that taxpayer money was being used for something other than protecting the city. It also didn't help that someone had recently been caught downloading porn to their work hard drive, and that one pervert ruined it for everyone else. There was no one to blame for this boring hell except myself; I could've told Chris to fuck off and called our mom to pick me up. Nope. I just had to give in to his pathetic face that he gave whenever he was losing whatever game we were playing.

For the hell of it I spun around in his desk chair, managing to get dizzy a few times but eventually that got old. I even stole his notepad and began writing obscenities on random pages, but that also seemed to lack the fun that it would've had few days ago. No, right now I more so wanted to kick Chris in the shin, and nothing else would quell my anger but that specific action to cause bodily harm. Yet here I sat, trapped with my own thoughts about things that would never come to be; Chris would toss me across the room before I got close enough for the shin kick.

I thought I was all alone in the office for a moment, prepared to begin talking to myself, but then I heard a deep voice coming from behind the closed door that read Capt. Albert Wesker. It sounded like he was having a phone conversation, and though it was in my blood to pry I figured that after today's event I needed to prove that I didn't gravitate towards trouble and things that weren't my business. So no matter how interesting eavesdropping seemed right now I had to repeat to myself that I needed to stay out of trouble and mind my own business for the rest of my Friday. Just as I resolved to keep to myself I heard a lock click, and the door to the captain's office opened slowly. Standing in the doorway was a man that must have been Captain Wesker, and for a moment I forgot that he was my brother's boss. Chris' personal pain in the ass stood at 6'3, broad shouldered with from what I could make out a lean body hidden beneath his dark blue button up. Other telltale signs of his hidden build were the veins pressed against the skin of his forearms, but once I realized that that had become a target of intense focus for me I stopped concentrating on his characteristics below the neck. He wore a pair of shades despite being inside, a detail that was distractive yet it added more allure regardless of the reason. His jaw was strong, his nose straight, and despite his dark, blonde hair being slicked back it was apparent from the amount of body present that he was due for another round of whatever hair product he'd used.

From this quick physical assessment of Captain Wesker I could not see him in action as a cop, rather a man that worked downtown in that skyscraper of a bank in one of the highest offices. However, looks could be deceiving.

It seemed to take a while for him to notice me seated at Chris' desk, and I chalked it up to him having more important things to worry about. After scanning the office though he seemed to finally notice that I was sitting there, but I wasn't too sure until he decided to address me. "Can I help you?" That voice sent a chill up my spine, a feeling that was oddly pleasant, most likely because it was somewhat attractive.

Standing up from the rolling chair I started towards him, my hand slightly raised. "I'm Claire Redfield," I offered, hand still extended.

"Chris' sister," he said with a smirk, finally shaking my hand with a grip that I couldn't describe as firm but rather warm. After two shakes he released his hold, but his smirk was still present. "I suppose it would be appropriate to ask you how you are doing but…" he trailed off. It was a deliberate action on his part and I appreciated that he was not interested in bringing up what happened earlier as it would only make this moment more awkward. I wanted to slap Chris for bringing me before but somehow I was beginning to think that this was probably going to be the highlight of my week; I was meeting the man that Chris was probably on the verge of hating and I wasn't even getting a hint of the pompous blowhard that dominated dinner-table conversations. We hadn't even had a conversation yet but for some reason I didn't want him to be this dick I'd been hearing rant after rant about. Call me shallow, but he was too… pretty to be all of the bad things I'd heard.

"Thanks," I muttered, unable to take my eyes off of his grin.

"I am Captain Wesker," he said with a nod, "and I'm sure that you've heard about me." He gestured for me to follow him as he turned on his heel to return to his office. Taking his seat behind the wooden desk, he motioned for me to sit down in one of the two chairs in front of it, and I chose the one closest to the door and directly in front of him. A stack of papers sat neatly stacked in the center of his desk, and to his right there was a another desk that was slightly taller than the other one that held a desktop and a black, plastic filed holder with labeled, manila folders. On his wall I saw certificates that boasted his credentials as an officer, newspaper clippings about the formation of the squad, and two degrees that stated he had a Masters in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology. It was impressive to say the least that he'd had so many accomplishments, but it made sense if he was twice my age. There were no picture frames on his desk, a sign that he had no family or children, and this was also possibly a sign that the rumors about him were true.

Clasping his hands on the desk in front of him he leaned in slightly, his smirk returning but this time it seemed to be more out of amusement than politeness. "So I've heard that you're a college student. What are you majoring in?" So Chris had been talking about me to his coworkers? It was sweet to know that but now I questioned whether he was bragging her complaining. My brother and I loved each other but that sibling rivalry still existed in some areas and academics was the subject of prevalence.

Feeling as though my answer would be inadequate next to his wall of achievements I tried to remind myself that he'd had more time than me to get to where he was. "Right now it's just General Studies but I'm leaning towards medicine."

His eyebrows raised in interest. "A doctor?"

With a chuckle I admitted, "I don't know about that. Full-on doctor might be a bit much for me." My grades so far were average and that didn't mean much of squat in undergrad just as high school grades barely made any impact on my current standing in college, but if I didn't feel like doing an eight sentence essay then why would I want to stand in a room full of rivals in a competition for the best cadaver carver?

"With these botched attempts to quell the outbreak going on and the misconceptions about pregnancy you'd be surprised how many idiots become doctors." With that he leaned back into his chair, resting his hands in his lap.

"You've got a point." I gave a weak laugh, not sure if he was now showing faith in my ability or saying that even if I was dumb I had a shot.

"What classes are you taking?"

"A two hundred level Spanish class and two one hundred level Biology classes."

With a nod he propped his elbow up on the arm of his chair and brought his hand up to rest his chin. "Languages are always useful. People have obtained corporate positions merely due to being bi or trilingual. Do you have a talent for languages?"

"I think so. It all sounds the same to me sometimes: Spanish, English, Italian, French… even German."

Something in his grin changed and his tone conveyed what was possibly admiration. "Well aren't you talented?"

My cheeks were growing warmer, and to avoid looking foolish I looked back to the beige wall that held his framed triumphs with the intention to bring the conversation back to him. "I see you've done quite a bit yourself."

Without even throwing a glance in the direction that I was gazing he threw out, "It was something to fill the time." The fact that he referred to obtaining two Masters as though they were hobbies was a bit intimidating, but since he didn't show any desire to talk about it I already decided it was probably best to give it up. He struck me as a man that could say what he wanted without having to directly say it and that made him a dangerous man with a dangerous ability. "What do your parents do?" His last question was both welcomed and dreaded; I could never speak about my parents without going into great detail about the shortcomings that were paired with their success. Perhaps I wanted someone to listen to me and give me some insight, but usually my audience would only say that they'd kill to have parents as loaded as I did. Captain Wesker was proving to be a different kind of audience though, and he was more than likely capable of seeing beyond superficial and materialistic desires that clouded the vision of others.

Feeling more comfortable, I leaned in closer, running my thumb across my fingernail. "My dad's been a commercial pilot for forever so he's never home too much. My mom's a plastic surgeon."

He nodded. "So you're closer with your mother?"

"Actually," I began nervously, glancing down at the floor, "she's probably gone almost as much as he is. She's popular and so are fat transfers in this day and age. House calls are becoming trendier again." My smile must have become sad because his own disappeared, and just like that I'd become the Claire that couldn't control her emotions when mommy and daddy were the topic of discussion.

"After you have children it is still important to continue to obtain stability for your own future. In today's society _everything_ is done with the thought of the children in mind, however, that train of thought has led to the overpopulation of breeders that somehow continue to entice men. Be proud that your parents never lost sight of what needed to be done. You may believe that it was selfishness but it is merely the desire to survive. You won't be there forever."

I'd never thought of it that way before, and though he spoke so brutally he was right in his assertion. "Once again… you've got a point."

That grin returned once he saw that I was understanding him. "As long as you don't turn to altering yourself." That comment didn't fit in anywhere in the conversation but I believe he simply wanted to make me blush again.

It worked; I was smiling so wide that it felt like my cheeks would burst. Often men did compliment me on my looks and body but it was usually someone who was younger. Something about this older man flattering me felt different though, like he was genuine in his admiration of my looks. Despite this he did not come off as inappropriate, something older men did tend to do, but the Captain seemed to have his method down to a science. I would choose not to refer to his mannerisms towards me as a method in the future; it cheapened the worth.

Once my smile was under control I asked, "So do you have any family?"

At this question he sat up straight. "No." His short reply seemed to be a mechanism that kept him from ranting and losing that cool composure he wore so effortlessly. It did ring a few alarms that he didn't have anyone, and it really baffled me that he had no children. Not a woman out there managed to trick him into a blond, baby boy? No, he wasn't the kind to be tricked, not a man of his intellect.

"Why not?" I shouldn't have asked him that question, but even if I had told him to forget that I inquired, he probably would have done the gentlemanly thing and offer a response anyhow.

"I've not yet found the right person."

I scoffed. "In all of this time you haven't found one person? I get that there are like twelve out of the seven billion people on this planet that could actually be compatible as a soul mate for an individual but you haven't found anyone even remotely close to that?" Obviously I'd gotten too comfortable, but he seemed to be enjoying the conversation even more now.

Now his grin was crooked, and I wondered if he was trying to keep himself from showing me a true smile. "I said, 'not yet.'" His computer made a dinging sound and he looked over to it, reaching a long, arm over to hit a few keys before returning his attention to me. "This career has its busy moments, even if we are in a small city. Halloween will prove to be the busiest time of the year no doubt."

I kept hearing about Halloween and how bad it would be this year, and though it seemed this city's population was suffering an unusual number of misfortunes recently I couldn't understand how ready they cops had to be for one night. "What's this huge event that we're prepping for?"

"So, I assumed you won't be attending Lord Spencer's party then?"

I gave him a confused look and shook my head.

"Aside from the threats of more pranks and drunken destruction from the fraternities STARS will be attending the party to offer our services. Lord Spencer has made many enemies and in his old age he could use our assistance."

I nodded slowly, trying to figure out whose toes this guy had stepped on in his five thousand years of existence. This man had to have been at the crucifixion to have so many people riled up over him. He was an old man and though they could be surly and bitter the picture I had of him in my mind was that of a giving man. Raccoon City was still a speck on the map of the US but because of Spencer choosing this to be the home of Umbrella, a multibillion dollar pharmaceutical corporation, we were beginning to expand along with his legacy. Remembering what Captain Wesker had said before I asked, "Wait, why would I be going to the party?"

Looking thoughtful he said, "I would assume your mother would be on his list. She is a successful doctor. And STARS members have the privilege of inviting a plus one." He was met with silence; Chris hadn't said a word about STARS working the soiree. With a "Hmm," he tilted his head up to glance at the ceiling. "You are young, I'm sure you have other plans, however it would be safer for you to attend this party where the security will turn a blind eye to underage drinking." That smirk returned, causing one to form on my own face.

"Halloween's my favorite holiday." I secured my bangs behind my ear.

"And why is that?"

With a full-on smile I said, "It's my birthday."

"Ahhh." His index finger rested against his temple, his thumb against his cheek as he crossed one arm over his torso. "And how old will you be?"

"Nineteen." I wouldn't brag or get excited over it. Nineteen was no milestone; I couldn't legally drink, rent a car, or get lower insurance. Nineteen was the age that you wanted to last forever but be over at the same time because of that one statistic that all parents hoped their daughters wouldn't fall prey to: if a teenage pregnancy would occur, it would be in the final year of being a teenager. I'd been on the pill for almost a year now and it hadn't failed me, but I was lucky in too many other areas. It felt like something would have to happen to me, something bad.

Unaware of my internal paranoia he surprised me with, "Then you should definitely attend the party."

I opened my mouth to respond but suddenly we heard raised coming from outside of the office.

Chris entered, talking with his hands as Forest Speyer talked over him. Jill followed closely behind them, eyeing them as though they were some strange anomaly and they might as well have been because I don't think any of us were sure if they were speaking a real language or not.

"No, no, no," Joseph interjected, popping out from behind the trio, "you both got it wrong-"

"Oh, Claire!" The conspicuous tone of Jill's exclamation had brought an abrupt end to the argument, and Chris looked embarrassed for a moment. I had no idea what they were talking about and I wanted it to remain that way.

They waved at me, Forest giving me a huge grin. As they neared the door to the captain's office I got to my feet, not sure of what Chris' return meant for me seeing as it wasn't five yet.

"What's going on here?" My brother looked back and forth between his captain and me, probably attempting to find a conclusion to jump to. Either that or he wanted a chance to use the "macho brother" act in an attempt to show up his superior.

Without hesitation Captain Wesker informed him of the current topic. "We were discussing Claire's birthday plans and I was suggesting that she attend Lord Spencer's party."

In his southern dialect that made him seem louder than he actually was Forest piped in with, "Why are you the only person here that call him, 'Lord'?"

Ignoring his friend's question Chris looked me dead in the eyes and said, "No."

I heard the grin in the blond's voice as he said, "I just thought it would be a nice alternative to a family party or a gift if she attended as your plus one if she's unable to attend with your mother. Your sister would have the chance to mingle with the-"

"I said no." Chris' tone was defiant and angry, and I'd heard that tone before.

Joseph said eagerly, "I'll take her-"

"I said no!" Chris' words came out in a roar that made me feel a surge of adrenaline. Perhaps it was truly embarrassment that I was feeling though. Chris' anger was not something that I ever enjoyed witnessing, especially when his rage was as unfounded as it was now.

Just when I thought that the quiet and awkward glances at the walls would go on forever I heard that deep, cool voice penetrate the silence. "Then she will come with me."

My brother looked stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he deliberated on whether or not to argue with his captain. Behind him, Jill looked nervous and ready to escape the awkward situation that her partner had created, but to keep from drawing attention to herself she swallowed hard and stayed as still as humanly possible.

Innocently Captain Wesker cocked his head to the side. "Is that a problem Redfield?"

I turned back to Chris, still able to see the internal battle that he appeared to be losing from my chair.

I heard him exhale. "It's a Victorian Age themed party Claire. The costume is mandatory so make sure mom takes you so you get it right."

A small smile crossed over my lips, but I felt bad. He'd been humiliated despite there being no need to feel that way. To keep from making it seem like I was happy over his defeat I looked back to his captain who was once more grinning, and his joy was directed at my brother's pain over the loss. I didn't know his reasons for stepping up for me, so I couldn't say whether or not they were honorable. However, it couldn't hurt to have a friend in Captain Wesker could it?

A/N: Updating this so quickly because the third chapter has to be up by Halloween at the latest, and I want to make sure the fourth chapter can be up the day after. I was actually into the conversation between Claire and Wesker, haven't felt that invested in a while. Yay me!

MysticWolf71891: I'm glad you're looking forward to updates! Thanks!

saddlebrat: Thanks!


	2. 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. I don't own the song used in this chapter either, it belongs to Lana Del Rey. I don't own any other mentioned copyrighted foods, vehicles, or items. I only own this story and the original characters I created.

Apicem Rapax

"The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame."

October 21st, 2014

11:14 PM

It seemed my meetings with an old colleague had become quite clichéd in the past few weeks; work had been keeping me away from the labs and any extra duties I had taken upon myself during such a crucial time. Thus far the ruffians we had hired to bring a touch of chaos to Raccoon City had been fulfilling their end of the bargain, but I was not certain that they could continue for the allotted duration. The probability of eyewitnesses was growing more each day and it would not look good if we were to simply bury the stories, and if we were forced to take them off of our payroll the city would return to the tranquility that much of America yearned for in their own backyards. We couldn't run the risk of hiring too many, trusting just anyone to work for us when social media gave the public a false impression that what they had to say mattered. However if we could not keep the distractions up then what really mattered would undoubtedly come to the surface soon after. People were missing. Not many, only a dozen or so, and the frequency of disappearances increased near the time of Lord Spencer's return. Suspicious indeed for an old man who hid himself away in an estate that he would only reveal to the precious quasi-elites' eyes for the first time since its construction in 1983.

Yet, he'd been getting away with much worse for much longer.

For a moment I was surprised, something that did not occur with frequency, as my colleague eased into the opposite side of the burgundy booth. The call for my shock was his wardrobe, and I could not resist but to voice my opinion on the pleasant yet unsettling deviation from the norm. "Nice hoodie William. Take it off," I added before taking a gulp of the over sweetened coffee that had been thrust upon me by a too-eager waitress barely out her senior year in high school.

As he looked around I gave a sigh of annoyance, an act that perhaps prompted him to at least peel back his hood. A black hoodie would only draw attention to the Captain of STARS and his intentions of meeting with a pale, odd, skittish man that no one in town could recognize. "I just wasn't sure if it was safe," he nearly stammered, checking behind him.

I blinked slowly, knowing he could see thanks to the low, hanging light fixture above the booth.

"Al you have no idea who could be watching-"

"Watching what William? Two men who could possibly be old roommates meeting up for a late, decent dinner at the best café in the city?" This seemed to settle him a bit. "Now what are you having?" Perhaps I should have left that to the waitress because he seemed to become nervous all over again. This was causing me to doubt selecting this venue, and maybe I should have opted for one of our usual meetings in Chief Irons' office or the patrol car. There he would feel safe as he would have felt if he were allowed to wear his too-large lab coat. Of course that was easier said than done when one had a whole team constantly questioning their leader's position on leaving twenty minutes before their scheduled departure. William also lacked something: a Redfield. More and more had that buffoon been visiting the gym, attempting to lure me into a premature rematch that would prove to be nothing more than a waste of his time and money when I finally decide to break his nose.

"Oh, your friend's here! Are you ready to order?" The perky, brunette had returned. I could tell that her not wearing a hat was bothering William slightly, and as she cocked her head to the side her short ponytail swung with ease.

With a grimace my friend said, "I think I'll just have the Chief's Salad."

"House dressing?"

"That will be fine." He handed her his unused menu.

"And your Panini was noted by the kitchen previously so we'll have your orders out shortly." She smiled at me before walking off to return to being unseen. However as a couple with three small wild children came through the front door I realized that the waitress would soon be bouncing back and forth often now.

The hostess at the front had looked in our direction and just as the brunette reappeared I raised my hand to summon her back over.

William followed my gaze to the front and whispered angrily, "I would never have Sherry out this late on a school night! What is wrong with people?"

I reached into my wallet and took out a twenty to hand to the girl. "Don't seat them next to us," I ordered and after thinking about it I took out a fifty and added, "as a matter of fact seat no one near us during our visit."

Her eyes grew wide and she smiled larger than she had before, happily agreeing with fervent nods.

We watched her intercept the family and lead them to the other side of the café. The mother looked offended as she stared William and I down but I merely smirked. We did her a favor; she and her husband could suffer in peace on the other side. It was a good thing that I had brought a sweater to change into; it would look odd that the Captain of STARS was paying off waitresses for seclusion. The city had before questioned my choice in personal vehicle, the area in which my home was located, and exactly how much that home cost. I assumed though that this mother did not know my face as people who typically did taught their children to treat the STARS unit as if we were some type of gods when the reality was this: we worked five days a week and had only been taking up patrol work to have something to do. There had been emergencies, we had been loaned out, but for the most part we were draining their taxes- or so people were to believe. The truth would do me one service though: I would no longer have to evade sticky-fingered children that wanted a picture with me or to ask elementary questions.

"Down to business." William said quickly, indubitably ready to return to the labs. The faster he dealt with that business the faster he could begin returning home at an acceptable hour. "The virus is problematic." This was bound to be the case. "I don't even see where Lord Spencer found it." He paused for a moment, exhaling. "Do you think you could ask him-?"

"That is out of the question," I snapped. I had no desire to speak with that man more than what was required at the party. I would put on a show for the guests, display nothing but kindness and admiration for him, but as soon as it was done he would become nothing more to me than a hated employer.

"You should have never gone into IB," he lamented.

"I go where I am most useful."

"But you could be set Al! If money is now your main concern all you need do is go to your-"

"William!" I hissed, managing to stop myself from banging my fist into the table. Once I realized that his idea was my fault I sat back and sighed. "I should have never told you."

Silence passed between us, neither of us able to look at the other. Until finally he asked, "Have you still been getting calls for physicals?"

"Yes. There was one just yesterday."

"It's happening more isn't it Al? The booster injections?"

He was correct in his assumption and I only nodded in response. When I left the labs I had figured that I would no longer receive as much attention in terms of physicals and injections, but it was quite the opposite. At first it was every six months, then four, then three, and now it was a monthly appointment. I'd experienced nor observed any differences in myself and so I'd not suspected much was going on other than Umbrella's desire to monitor me more closely. They believed that a breakthrough was near and they wanted to be sure that William and I had no intentions of crossing them.

This talk caused him to become nervous once more. "The Batna virus is killing every female test subject it touches and the men are becoming... _zombies._"

I had to hold in laughter as he whispered that word with such fear.

"It's not funny Al!" He leaned in to begin one of his whispered rants. "The dogs are becoming the same way when exposed! We have been working with many animals, most of them display tremendous growth and increased aggression but the dogs are becoming more territorial and somehow obedient. The women are dying once they are infected whereas the men want nothing more than to rip things to shreds and devour or infect others. And when we introduced Ebola it only made the chances for infection skyrocket. We know of Progenitor, we know of the leeches but where were they from? How did it create Batna? There was one man though…" He trailed off, seeming to be bothered by whatever he was about to divulge. "One man woke up normally."

"What became of him?"

With a sharp sigh he looked me directly in the eye and laughed, "The other subjects ripped him to shreds!" He pushed his hair back and tried to compose himself. "And the only female that was somewhat alive after being infected was Lisa."

I scoffed. Lisa Trevor had been long considered a failure until she showed us that she was useful in another area. Lisa was a special case that had managed to take away William's attention when Batna refused to work just because he wanted it to.

"And then there's Alexia…" It seemed Dr. William Birkin was once more showing his jealousy for the child that outdid him all those years ago.

"You still bear ill will for a girl that has been assumed dead for almost 15 years." This time I did laugh at him, surprising my worrisome friend. His scowl did nothing but cause me to laugh more loudly. "Calm down Will; Alexia is dead and her brother with an IQ that was half of her own is building up castles on that Rock he was sentenced to but is so delusional that he believes it to be a foundation for his kingdom. The Ashfords are done and they have lost their power and they can do nothing to us." And that was the best news the world could have received.

October 31, 2014

7:26 PM

As the time to depart drew near I found myself in front of the mirror once more, adjusting the corset that made my breasts look larger than they truly were. Though my outfit wasn't going to look as fancy as everyone else's I had no intention of looking as stuffy as them. They could call me a Ripper Era whore for all I cared but I refused to cover myself up like I was my mom's age. The corset was black, boned with lace that covered a bit of my cleavage at the top. On the bottom of the sides there was a veil that ran from the top of my hip to a bit farther down my thigh and it also ran around the back but it stopped just below my behind. I'd managed to fashion one side-veil into an inconspicuous pocket to hold my phone, and partygoers would be none the wiser. My skirt appeared to be the lower half of a dress, just how I wanted it to pan out, and thanks to modern fashion it was made to puff out without the aid of an uncomfortable bustle or crinoline. The skirt possessed only a few layers of ruffles, just enough so that I wouldn't look like a gothic bride, and it was long enough to hide the somewhat hideous but accurate rendition of Victorian booties that laced up the front.

My hair was not so Victorian as I'd deemed most of the styles ugly and if I was going to pay to get hair extensions then by God they were going to be seen. My hair was parted down the middle, the top layer pulled back and braided before being twisted into a beautiful bun that was nothing more than the result of a lovely illusion. The bottom layer of my deep, reddish brown hair fell past my breasts in tight ringlets achieved through the use of so much hairspray that I was warned about lighting up. A few black beads were clipped on here and there to give me the look of elegance that I'd been missing but truly didn't desire. I completed my outfit with a large necklace that was in the shape of an upside down triangle and the point stopped just at my cleavage with black beads woven into the shapes of flowers with purple beads that represented the stigmas. Hiding the clasp and haloing the actual necklace were black feathers, a few of them purple and deep blue. Never had I put so much money and effort into a Halloween costume, but this wasn't just some drunken party hosted in someone's backyard. No, this was the Spencer party in a mansion that the public of Raccoon City had yet to see, and so I would act as if I were someone that mattered.

One more time I peered in the mirror, admiring my work with the new mascara I'd bought that made my lashes touch the bottom of my manicured eyebrows. My deep, red lipstick clashed with the cool, blue color of my eyes, and just as I was about to get caught up in appreciating my look all over again I felt my mom tugging me away from the mirror set into the foyer wall. I was so glad that this outfit came together the way I'd imagined, because honestly I wanted to look nice for someone. Ever since he'd strong armed my brother into inviting me I couldn't help but think of Captain Wesker. Something about that man had captivated me and it wasn't letting go. I'd wanted to go back up to the precinct but I didn't need to be looked at as Chris' love-struck sister with an obsession with the captain. If there was one reason I was looking forward to this it was because of him.

"Let's go Claire," she groaned. "Aaron!"

"Geez Charlotte," I muttered.

"Claire, it's cold outside!" she nagged. Too bad; I wasn't covering up my corset. My mother had taken cues from movies and she looked less authentic and more so Kirsten. I'm also pretty sure that she was wearing a bustle in the back of her flowing, pink skirt. I wasn't sure how that was supposed to work out in the car. My father and brother wore long, dark-gray, Chesterfield coats with a shoulder capes, matching slacks, freshly shined dress shoes, and black Broadway hats. To complete his look he carried a thin, black cane that was meant to make up for his lack of a monocle. It was almost creepy how they almost looked like twins, but he was his father's son so that was expected. However, Chris had one accessory my father didn't: a holster with a loaded gun. I wasn't expecting that we'd even need STARS to be there tonight but if it made the guests and the host feel better then I guess there was no harm.

Despite being Chris' plus one I rode with my parents, not wanting to be burdened with the awkwardness that would be involved with riding with my brother. For some reason he didn't want me there but when did I ever listen to him? As we rode down the dirt trail my mother commented that it was a good idea to take my dad's SUV. When we arrived there were cars parked throughout the clearing that served as a yard and parking lot. Luckily for us the other guests had decided to take it upon themselves to park in an orderly fashion, and because they had made so many rows we were able to park not even half a mile out. We all followed the lights that were the only illumination besides the moon, and as we reached the front doors a large, bald man who must have been security stopped us.

"Names?" he asked in a booming voice.

My mom stepped up and said, "Charlotte and Aaron Redfield." He checked the list, light provided to him through the crack of one of the doors.

He checked his list and checked off the names before he nodded and looked to my brother and me.

"Officer Chris Redfield and Claire Redfield."

Once more he went down his list, checking off the names. "Enjoy your visit."

For a moment we just stood there, until my mom groaned and pulled open one of the doors herself. I was glad she did because as much as I hated to admit it I was freezing. Upon entering the mansion we saw a dozen or so people walking around the brightly lit foyer, coming in and out of the doors to the left and to the right. From the left door I could hear classical music playing softly, people chatting away and probably enjoying the feel of having accomplished stepping foot into a Lord's home. The foyer had a marble tiled floor that was gray in color, immaculately cleaned and shined so well that it was almost like a mirror. The long, narrow carpe that we stood on was a deep crimson and it stretched on up the stairs set into the middle of the room. There was a large portrait hanging at the top of that first flight but I couldn't make out what it was, and on either side of it were two other flights of stairs that led up to a wooden walkway. There were so many doors, so many rooms in this house that I was sure I wouldn't be taking a tour.

"Most of the doors are locked!" I heard someone yell out right on time. Then I'd feel no need to pry.

Under stairway I made out another area that led behind it, and just then two guests stumbled out looking a bit disturbed. "Did you hear that?" the male whispered as they made their way back towards the room to my right.

"Well let's go," Chris said impatiently, heading towards the music.

We came upon a long and spacious room with a black and white tiled floor, two chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the pillars beneath the walkway upstairs held little lanterns that were brightly lit. The walls were white, engraved with intricate designs and ended halfway down with the best wood paneling I'd seen, and I hated wood paneling. To my right a DJ was setting up his booth, dressed plainly in a black shirt and dark jeans, and I had guessed that he wasn't subject to the dress code. Since the DJ wasn't responsible for the music I heard it was safe to assume that it came from a speaker somewhere, and I couldn't wait until he shut it down and played something more contemporary. Maybe two hundred people were at this party, not all of them in this particular room, many of them were heading to the "art room," as I heard someone call it. This caused me to notice that portraits were lining the walls of this room, and they made no sense to me. I guess Spencer was just a fan of anything that looked fancy. Everywhere I looked I saw up-dos, a few powdered wigs, and men dressed in odd tuxedos from the Victorian era. Some of the men wore fake moustaches that looked a bit silly on them but everyone was here to have a good time and I wouldn't spoil it by laughing at their costumes. The other women here were dressed as colorfully as my mother, making me stand out amongst a sea of pink, red, yellow, and green. That was fine by me.

Against the wall I saw Forest waving to Chris, and my brother immediately excused himself to head on over. Interestingly enough Jill was also waiting for him, her short hair tucked beneath a wavy, brunette wig that was pinned up in ringlets. Her deep blue dress clung to her arms, exposing her shoulders. She seemed a bit uncomfortable but she had no choice but to bear with it and stick it out until the party ended. As they waited for Chris to get over to them she turned around and picked up her plate from the white, clothed table behind her. A few lined the wall holding such things as sandwiches and fruits, and there was a whole table dedicated to champagne and wine with a server happily handing out crystal glasses with the guests' choices.

"There's Dr. Spencer," my mom whispered, pointing towards the center of the room. He was staring up at Captain Wesker, who smiled half-heartedly at the elderly host. My parents were already heading towards the two men and since I knew one of them I decided to grab hold of my mother's dress and follow behind her. We approached the gentlemen who were also dressed in one of those silly, old tuxedos, immediately interrupting their conversation.

"Well hello." Honestly, Spencer sounded like he smoked five packs a day. His hairline was receded so badly that it was now near the back of his head. His skin was wrinkled and dry from the years of weathering and he had puffy, red bags under his eyes, yet when his thin lips spread into a smile I could see that all of his teeth were real. The strongest thing on this man was teeth it seemed, and had he not sounded as though he needed the aid of a respirator he would have had a strong voice as well. It was deep, his dialect laced with regality that he had been blessed with by his parents. "I am Lord Ozwell Spencer, welcome to my home."

The home you're barely at, I thought evilly.

My mother shook his hand eagerly, "I'm Dr. Charlotte Redfield," she announced happily.

My father shook his hand next. "Aaron Redfield. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Spencer nodded throughout their introductions and once his hand was finally free his eyes settled on me. "And who is this?" His inquiry had caught me off guard; I'd been looking up at Captain Wesker who had been smirking at me.

When I failed to speak up my mother piped in, "This is our daughter Claire. Tonight is her 19th birthday!"

"Well happy birthday Claire!" he said excitedly.

Formality dictated that I extend a hand to him, and as his closed around it I felt an odd sensation creeping over me. His hand was cold to the touch and his eyes seemed to pierce through me into my soul. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you." My tone was flat, confused, and I seemed to be star struck which was not at all the case. There was something off-putting about our host and I couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Wesker must have sensed how awkward the moment had become because he suddenly informed Spencer of our relation to Chris Redfield, one of his finest members in STARS. Hearing him say that had surprised me so much that I made a mental note to tell my brother of his declaration.

Spencer seemed delighted to hear this, and he patted Wesker on the shoulder. This seemed to bother the captain but I would not look too far into it. It just seemed to me that Wesker wasn't too fond of physical contact and older people seemed to love just that.

To save him from _his_ awkward moment I asked him, "Where is the rest of the squad?" I hadn't seen any other officers tonight but I knew that they had to be here somewhere.

Stepping away from Spencer just a bit he said, "Barry is taking his girls Trick or Treating. The others are guarding other areas of the mansion to ensure that after this is over Lord Spencer will still feel a sense of security. You must understand that he lives here alone save for a few employees. It's important that everyone's privacy is protected."

"Yes, but for Thanksgiving I will have a showing of the mansion; it has been without me for too long and therefore not ready to be scrutinized by the citizens of Raccoon City." The old man's admission seemed to be one of vanity to me. Why was he so concerned with the public's opinion of his home when he had maybe ten of these mansions around the globe? His money and influence was why they came, and perhaps to hear about Umbrella but he seemed more interested in throwing an actual Halloween party. These people that had come here with the intention to network themselves were now left to do nothing but get drunk on his wine and eat his food. Were we here to acknowledge that he was alive and that he had the money for all of this but he could also choose to section us off because everything was too valuable to allow the unwashed to see it? Nice to know that he came back to have a few parties rather than extend the hardworking people of this city any help in expanding their businesses and opportunities.

Just as I was about to embarrass my parents by questioning his motives behind this seemingly pointless gathering I heard a loud, shrill laugh cut through the air. Everyone had quieted at this, and I turned around to see a young man strut into the room with an eerie grin upon his face.

His blue eyes darted around wildly as other guests moved back to allow him through, and one woman that refused to move was shoved roughly to the side. His yellow hair was slicked back and down closely to his scalp, and he wore a red uniform that appeared military. He had a long, thin nose and pouty lips that seemed to have some red tint to them but I already had drawn the conclusion about him that if any woman were to have been responsible then it was more than likely coerced. Something about his appearance screamed insanity, but I would keep my mouth shut about whoever our host decided to put on his guest list.

As the man neared us we all stepped away from Lord Spencer, Wesker being the only one to remain in his spot.

"If it isn't Old Spencer," the intruder said in a high-pitched voice that was painted up with an upper-class British accent.

"Alfred," he began, "I wasn't sure that you'd make it." Spencer showed no signs of fear, but this whole encounter was odd to everyone present.

I looked up to Wesker who was shaking his head at my brother across the room and found that I wasn't the only person who questioned Spencer's safety.

"Well it's not a party until an Ashford arrives, isn't that right Uncle Spence? I'm sure my grandfather would be very disappointed if I turned down and invite from one of his best friends." Alfred's voice was laced with sarcasm and he showed incapability of expressing any genuine care or like for Spencer. "Also, I know Alexia _adored _your events."

I saw Wesker tense at that statement, and Spencer held an arm out over his chest. "That's all right Albert. Perhaps Mr. Ashford would like to join me in a private chat."

With a nod Wesker said, "Yes sir," and backed away from us. "Happy birthday Claire," he said before turning around to disappear into the crowd.

"Toodles Wesker! Don't think I've forgotten!" he shouted while waving wildly, bringing an end to my short-lived smile over Wesker's birthday wish to me. As he took hold of Spencer's arm the blond glared at me, smirking as they walked over to the other side of the room. Though I wasn't sure what I had witnessed I thought it was best that I forget. Whoever these people truly were, I was sure that I didn't want to know.

8:49 PM

Captain Wesker had been eying Dr. Spencer throughout the night, but his observations became more intent when the odd, blond he addressed as Mr. Ashford entered the party. Amongst a few of the partygoers I heard whispers about him, some stating that he'd gone mad when his sister disappeared, some questioned the validity of his invitation, and some stared on at him with an inexplicable measure of disdain. He'd already broken dress code by attending in a red, general's uniform, and now he made a scene with his high-pitched cackling that seemed to unnerve our host. While I watched the awkward interactions taking place between Dr. Spencer and Sir Ashford I seemed to phase out the rest of the party. At times it seemed Ashford would sneer cruelly, but the elderly, estate owner seemed impervious to his expressions that told a story of hidden hatred. I was just ready for this night to end now that I'd had my champagne and fancy finger-food because this music paired with this older crowd was bringing nothing but second-hand embarrassment upon me. Despite my complaints I found some positives about my visit such as catching up with Jill on some town gossip about this estate. It seemed that there was way more to this place, but in the dark in the middle of the woods it was impossible to see all of the work the late and great George Trevor had put into it. Supposedly there was a private graveyard here for the most respected employees within Umbrella and even a residency here for trainees. Of course I had no intention of leaving the warmth of the mansion to hunt in the dark for locked rooms and a spooky graveyard. Although that would have made for a great idea rather than keeping everyone confined to three rooms.

Jill provided me with much needed company up until Forest and Chris forced her to tag along to check out the art room, leaving me alone with a bunch of lawyers and doctors. Many of them were nice though, recognizing me as Charlotte's daughter and I even got the scoop on Alfred. He was the son of the late Alexander Ashford who was the son of Edward Ashford, one of the three founders of Umbrella. Edward had passed mysteriously, leaving a young Alexander to bring what many considered ruin to the Ashford family name. Because of his destruction of the family legacy Alexander's disappearance bothered no one, not even his employees or Lord Spencer, but it bothered me. Because Alfred had a twin sister named Alexia, and she disappeared almost fifteen years ago as well, and this loss was one that he did take hard. The circle I conversed with also found it odd that the family was plagued with unexplained deaths and inexplicable disappearances. The family was truly an oddity though; I'd never heard of a family so proud of a matriarch that they shed their true name to uphold her memory, but I suppose it was also progressive. All this pressure to live up to the Ashford name seemed to have a positive outcome on Alexia though; she graduated college at 10 and became a head researcher at Umbrella. It was sad to see that that genius was now gone from this world as I was sure that someone of her intellect was probably capable of great feats. Now we were left with her brother, another disappointment to the Ashford name from what I'd heard. He owned research facility of his own but it yielded nothing beneficial as of late, and just by looking at him I could tell that perhaps mentally he was inept when it came time to rise to the challenge.

"Claire?"

Almost as if I'd been caught spying I jumped around to see Captain Wesker holding out his hand towards me, silently requesting this dance. The upbeat music had come to a stop, and now a haunting song began to play. Although I was sure this would look inappropriate I accepted his offer. As he pulled me in by my waist I felt fluttering in my stomach, and I smiled nervously as I brought my hands up to his shoulders. I glanced around to see quite a few of the guests using the same technique, and I couldn't imagine how mortified they'd feel once they heard the lyrics of the song. However, these were the rich, the drunk rich, and they didn't care about some lyrics that were more suited for their rebellious teens. Even when an uncensored Beyoncé song played they seemed more interested in not stepping on their partners' feet rather than attempt to figure out what she was doing with a surfboard in the tub. As the start of the verse drew nearer I peered over at my parents who were on the sidelines speaking to another couple, filling their little plates with finger sandwiches and strawberries. Then I looked for Chris in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.

As I convinced myself that it was merely a dance I looked into my partner's blue eyes, feeling a bit awkward based on my theory that he was attracted to me. I considered my crush to be the equivalent of a young girl's on an older person, the kind of crush that was supposed to be founded on their admiration of them. Yet something in me knew that… I couldn't think about these things, not with the whole STARS squad here. When these situations occurred it was impossible to hide the look in your eyes, the meticulousness of your every move, and the uncontrollable smiles. Why'd he have to be so nice to me? I'd told myself before this party that I'd try to limit our contact since I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation earlier this month, but the whole time I was here I really just wanted him to come talk to me again.

_In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, living in the garden of evil._

I wanted this to not feel awkward, to not feel like I was doing something wrong. After all this all started innocently, it was just the circumstances. The only thing that would make it look bad would be if I looked at him but I instead focused on everyone around us, searching faces for the slightest expression of disagreement.

No one said a thing, no one raised an eyebrow, and it seemed that I was getting away with something that was… wrong. At the feel of his grip tightening on my waist I licked my lips and my eyes fell to his torso.

_Put your hands on my waist, do it softly. Me and God, we don't get along so now I sing._

"Interesting choice in music." His statement made me look back up to him.

Once more an unintentional smile took over my lips. "I think the DJ is used to a younger crowd." I dropped one of my hands to his chest, forcing me to notice that we were so close that my propped breasts looked even larger and I felt that maybe I should've worn a shawl. I wanted to hide my nervousness behind idle talk but chats should be avoided; it was best that we only stuck to meaningful conversation.

_No one's gonna take my soul away. I'm living like Jim Morrison. Headed for a fucked up holiday, hotel sprees sprees and I'm singing, "Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly want." It's innocence lost. Innocence lost._

I tried to glance over at my parents, but it appeared that they had moved, and Chris was nowhere to be seen. I did, however, see Dr. Spencer surrounded by a group of women, they were all attractive and in their thirties, laughing so loudly that I could practically see down their throats. Odd as it was I would make a note to give him a thumbs up later.

_In the land of gods and monsters I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard._

I couldn't hold in the laugh that exploded from me, causing my chest to heave against his. "I'm sorry."

He actually smiled at me, and I felt one of his hands inch lower.

Hard as it was I ignored the feel of the palm of his hand pressing against the small of my back. "I just can't believe everyone is okay with this. There's no outrage, no one screwing up their faces…"

The blond leaned down, his breath tickling my ear as he said, "I think everyone here is having a _very _good time." When he pulled back I saw that he was still giving me a genuine smile, not those smirks and grins he'd given at the RCPD, and honestly this suited him.

"Are you?" I asked, unsure why I even inquired.

For the briefest moment he placed a hand on my chest, and I was certain that he felt my heart pounding inside its cage. Three beats later his hands brushed over the skin of my collar bone, taking with it curled strands of my hair in a well-played move. "Most definitely." The bass in his voice made me burn within so hot that before long I felt my cheeks growing warm.

_You got that medicine I need. Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart please. I don't really wanna know what's good for me. God's dead, I said, "Baby that's all right with me."_

We weren't even dancing anymore, we were just standing there. Had things been different, had he not been who he was, we would've kissed. We would've snuck off in the middle of the dance and gone somewhere secluded in the mansion. This wasn't how the night would end though, and perhaps it was for the best. At some point the song had ended and as DJ began to attempt to pump up the crowd we stepped back from each other, but I could sense a hint of reluctance on his part. I don't think anyone would've noticed if we hadn't though; the crowd had been drinking for a while once they realized that his party was just that: a party that would have no talk of business.

"Yes I hope everyone is enjoying themselves!" Dr. Spencer was maybe ten feet away from us, shaking hands and thanking his guests for coming.

Once again though, I saw Alfred walking towards him, his steps hurried as he excused himself while pushing through the crowd.

Wesker and I looked at each other, probably both questioning the eccentric man's behavior throughout the night.

"Lord Spencer!" Now that Alfred once more had Dr. Spencer's attention everyone else turned their gazes upon the pair, the immediate area quieted and made the room seem as though it was only half full. "For Alexia!" Quickly he reached into his jacket, pulling out a pistol and taking aim at his target. Before anyone in the crowd had the chance to scream he pulled the trigger, and only then did I hear the sound of panicked guests cutting through the air. Spencer fell to the ground and I felt Wesker grab onto my waist and attempt to pick me up to turn me away from the scene.

As I saw the room whip by me I became dizzy, but I didn't struggle against him. Some people ducked, some pushed against others as they tried to escape the area, but I felt completely powerless. Then another shot sounded out, a loud boom, and I saw the floor coming up at me. As I lie on the floor I heard another shot, however, what was more disturbing was the fact that an arm was still around my waist. Behind me I heard my brother yelling, Alfred's shrill voice protesting at being held. Then I thought I heard Jill telling people to call an ambulance, that Spencer was conscious but wounded.

"Someone else was shot!" a woman shrieked, and for some reason I saw dozens of feet surround me.

I could still feel a limb on my waist, heavy, almost dead weight. As I rolled over I felt a pain in my wrist, but it was soon forgotten when I saw the second victim. The very man that had shielded me lie on the floor, his once perfect hair disheveled from the fall. Stupidly I reached over to rouse him, but the sight of crimson staining the side of his head stopped me. "Wesker!" The voice didn't sound like mine yet I knew it was, and I felt my body go numb as I brought a hand to his shoulder uselessly. The sound of Alfred's cackles were muffled as I stared down at my savior who was bleeding out.

"Paging Dr. Birkin!" As I turned to see the madman being carted away he sneered at me, and I realized that he was the true definition of mad.

A/N: This chapter needs a rewrite but a few things have been happening so I didn't have enough time to update it before today. Lost a pet so I was grieving, then I got Diablo… we know what RPGs can do to time management. Happy Halloween all.


	3. 3

A/N: Later update than intended but I don't want to force it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. I don't own any other mentioned copyrighted foods, vehicles, or items. I only own this story and the original characters I created.

Apicem Rapax

"The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame."

October 31, 2014

_Breaking news: Tonight at a party hosted by Umbrella Inc.'s sole remaining cofounder, Ozwell E. Spencer, at the illustrious Spencer Estate a shooting occurred that has left the multibillionaire in critical condition. The suspect is in custody and has been identified by eyewitnesses as Alfred Ashford, grandson of Edward Ashford, one of the three cofounders of Umbrella Inc. alongside Lord Spencer and Dr. James Marcus. This party marked the first time that non-Umbrella employees were permitted entrance to the famed mansion. Witnesses say that Ashford came into the party unannounced and completely unexpected even by the host, and one guest quoted, "He came in, laughing like a madman and seemed determined to spread the pandemonium all around. We hoped that by ignoring him he'd simply go away, but then the shots started." And this just in, we are receiving news that… Are you serious? Viewers, I'm getting news that someone else was injured… Captain Albert Wesker of STARS was also shot and is in critical condition. We're being filled in that Lord Spencer sustained a gunshot wound to the chest… Captain Wesker to the… head?_

The news stations had been covering the story since the first ambulance arrived, but something about the particular station that I was watching in the sitting area was making me realize how real this was. The other anchors had been pushed to focus on Spencer's career, the mansion, Umbrella… To them Captain Wesker had been treated as an afterthought but Susan knew to do the right thing, to break away from instructions and focus on the facts of the tragedy rather than the turn this into some narrative where they got to ignore what actually happened on this night. They weren't dead and it wasn't right to speak of their titles over their statuses. I'd resolved to call the station myself if they had treated it like it was nothing but it was something to me damn it. When Alfred shot Spencer, Wesker didn't jump onto the fallen man or lunge at the shooter; he grabbed me as soon as he ascertained the situation and tried to protect me. I don't know if I would have been shot but that didn't matter. When the paramedics arrived no one could pull me away from him, I ran outside along the stretcher, yelling that he was still breathing, but when I tried to get in the ambulance I was turned away because I wasn't family. As the vultures arrived for their scoop, ignoring the property laws, I was found by my parents who were holding me tighter than the corset I wore. My adrenaline was through the roof and I didn't even notice how cold it was outside, and as they squeezed me I felt unbearably hot. I pleaded that they get themselves together and take me to the hospital, I had to be there; I needed to know that the man who'd put his life on the line for my own was all right.

We'd managed to get to the hospital not long after the ambulance and I remember stupidly going through the ER entrance, chasing the paramedics until security subdued me and nurses assured me that they'd do everything they could but it was a sterile environment… Time went by without a word to me, just alerts over the intercom, possibly about Wesker and Spencer's condition, and though I was sure that my mother had an idea what the codes meant she wasn't telling me. This only brought me more concern and guilt. By 10:30 my parents were trying to get me to go home, their argument being that even the STARS members knew there was nothing they could do. Jill, Forest, Chris, all of them just yelled at doctors, demanding an update, but when they were given no answers they ended up wandering off one by one. Soon after Enrico had muttered something about Alfred they all left. I was almost certain that they were going to do something they'd regret at the precinct.

Somehow though, despite the tension that weighed heavily upon me I had managed to fall asleep in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting area. I awoke to a dim room that appeared to be obscured by a blue haze. Frowning to myself I pulled my phone from the pocket on my skirt. 12:00 AM, Saturday, November 1. Forgetting my mascara and eye shadow, I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to make the haze disappear, but it remained. I looked around the area, seeing no one, just the other chairs that surrounded the coffee table in front of me that held old magazines. The buzzing from one of the lights beyond the wooden, double doors sounded, and I saw it flash through the tiny space that separated them. I heard no dinging from the elevators down the hall, no messages on the PA system, and no carts being pushed. Feeling a chill come down my neck I pulled my father's coat closed, shielding my cleavage and shoulders from the air. I got to my feet, staring down those double doors that seemed to call me, but at the same time there was something in the air that told me to stay away. One booted foot forward, I'd decided to march on, holding out my hand in front of me as I got closer to the doors. I'd intended to give a gentle push but for some reason the barrier wouldn't budge, leaving me with no choice but to use both hands.

Once I'd applied a good amount of strength, I nearly fell through the other side, catching myself before I fell face-first into that ugly, light blue tile. Mortified at my near-blunder I looked around and stood up straight once I saw a woman rounding the corner. I'd intended to smile but what I assumed to be a nurse with her face painted in the sugar skull style for Day of the Dead. Her hair was twisted back into a bun, the white paste stopping just at the edge of her hairline. Her jawline and cheeks were contoured with darker colors to complete the skeletal look. When I finally cracked a smile she failed to return it, her pale, chapped lips set in a straight line. Though I tried to fight the urge to watch her I did just that, my eyes following her through the set of doors that she somehow managed to get through with ease. Alone once more in the hallway, I realized that I didn't even know why I was still there. Why was I in this hallway? Something was calling me here, telling me to continue down the hallway, and with none of the uncertainty in my steps that existed in my mind I continue my trek to nowhere. The fluorescent light above me flickered frequently, buzzing loudly, the combination alone enough to make me want to figure out where I was supposed to be going.

"Catrina to the nurse's station." The voice over the PA was lifeless, robotic, and eerily hollow.

The nurse's station was abandoned, bringing rise to serious doubts that Catrina would be coming anytime soon. A gift basket with various fruits and a balloon tied to it that read, "Get well soon!" was abandoned on the counter next to a clipboard. I should've stopped there, looked around and called for someone but that inexplicable force that had taken hold of me wasn't letting me go. Instead, my stroll that was feeling more and more forced continued, and I let my eyes wander to see if anything at all was occurring on this seemingly dead floor. I passed by a few rooms that had their doors propped open, but most were pitch black, offering no sights or assurance that what I was even experiencing was reality. I was coming upon another room when I felt a tingling against the palm of my hand, and as though I were being led by some unseen entity I turned to enter. The room was dimmed by that same, blue haze that tinged the air of the hallway, but I could see that this room was occupied. I felt nervous about intruding, but that force continued to pull me in and I decided to stop fighting it. The beeping of the heart monitor was steady, a sign that was good but for some reason the rhythmic beats filled me with unease that was threatening to make my own heart pound.

An IV bag was blocking my view of the patient's face, leaving me to continue my worries over this intrusion. As I took a few more steps in I saw him, my savior, lying in the bed, and the square bandage on the side of his head was beginning to stain. A large, purple bruise had formed on his left cheek from the fall, and I remembered that my arm was starting to feel sore. Now that I could see it was him I no longer felt that fear from before; now I only felt compelled to be at his side. I rounded the end of the bed and took a seat in the chair next to it. Boldly I reached up and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing slightly, possibly with the hopes of getting some automatic response, but nothing happened. I traced circle with my thumb into his warm skin, biting my lip as I stared up at his face. Sleeping he looked like a totally different person, and as idiotic as it sounded he looked more angelic than human. His blond hair was no longer slicked back neatly as it had been in our past encounters, instead it was heavy with sweat and dried blood that weighed it down so much that it was forced into a crude part down the middle of his scalp.

Slightly curled ends were touching his brow, creating a sight that was so atypical for him that I had to convince myself to resist the impulse to correct it. He was perfect, too perfect to not reach out and touch him. His eyes were the perfect blue, clear and bright, and yet they brought about a sense of mystery. Was he joking when he said some of the things he did or was he serious? His nose was straight, not too pointed, not too long, and not too narrow. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones set at just the right height, and he possessed none of that pesky baby fat that set apart the boys from the men. His lips though thin fit his face, and I realized why I was once again taking in his handsome face: I'd stopped myself from admiring him too much when we first met. He was my brother's superior, he was a savior of Raccoon City, and he wasn't some classmate that I could make a move on.

For just a moment I would give in, I would do what I felt I should have at that party. I scooted forward in the chair, my hand reaching out to his face, and as my fingers were mere inches from his flawless, white skin that had been marred by purple bruises I hesitated. My fingers curled back towards me as I struggled with that inexplicable fear, but I swallowed down that emotion and once again reached for him. Almost. I could feel the heat coming off of his skin now, so close, but in the corner of my eye I saw a hand reaching down to his. Afraid of being caught in an awkward position, I snatched my hand back and almost fell back into the chair, and I saw the hand do the same. In the darkness I could see the pale hand snatch back just as I'd done, disappearing into the sleeve of a purple robe.

Through the darkness I could see the robed figure take a step back, but after a few second of my staring the intruder stepped forward and I realized that it was impossible for them to have been shrouded in darkness before. The room was all tinged with that same blue haze as the others, but those corners of blackness were… illogical. As the person lifted their hands up to the hood that hid their face I saw that they belonged to an older person when just seconds ago they appeared youthful. Those hands, paper thin and pale moved up to grab the hood, exposing the mysterious person that had caught me in the act of admiring the unconscious captain.

Fear gripped my soul as I felt what seemed to be ice seized my heart mid-beat. No, no. This wasn't right at all, something about this was so unnatural that it sent teeny vibrations through me that caused me to shiver.

As those long, boney fingers pulled back the hood I heard a sigh that couldn't have belonged to me. Cold, gray eyes that were familiar to me locked onto my own.

My breath caught in my throat, I couldn't see anything but those eyes, and for some reason I couldn't even move. As my eyes began to water I blinked, turning away as I did so. When I looked back I saw Lord Spencer standing over Wesker, still looking down at me, a sad smile on his thin, dry lips. "What are you doing here? You were-"

"A flesh wound Miss Redfield. Albert, however, was not so fortunate. At least he's breathing on his own," he mused. His fingers brushed against the dirty bandage, the audaciousness of the act causing me to sit up straight in the chair and tense. Of course what was I going to do about it? Dropkick an old man?

Wait a minute… "You took more than a flesh wound," I whispered, recalling that the fall alone should have resulted in broken bones, bruises to his face, or something that would have him in much worse shape than he appeared to be in.

He gave a single laugh, reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out a syringe. "Oh I hate to do this," he lamented, "but Albert has gotten himself into quite the predicament this time. No amount of pills can fix this."

"Wh-wh- what are you doing?" I stuttered, lifting myself up to my feet.

"What I must to save him. He barely made it through the surgery, there's no way he'll come out of the coma. At least not fully functioning," he added with a sad glance to the blond. "It must be done." As those fading eyes redirected their gaze to mine he said calmly, "You see, Albert is my son."

I'd never been hit with so few words that managed to smack me with the weight of a full-sized dictionary. All I could ask was, "Does he know?" the volume of my voice rising far above what I would initially allow.

Scoffing, he barked, "Of course he knows; you think I'd tell some random child and not him?" Though he saw that he'd insulted me he continued with, "But I can tell that Albert has taken a liking to you, and so I shall allow you to stay." While I processed that bit of information he quickly jammed the syringe into his arm, drawing out his blood. A black liquid slowly filled the barrel, its texture thicker than blood, and the incredulity of this moment kept me frozen in place with a myriad of emotions swirling within me.

When he finished drawing from his arm he reached for Wesker's, the move making me jump. I moved to walk around the bed with the intention of stopping him but his free hand shot up to make a gesture for me to stop, and for some reason I did. Mid-stride I was standing there, unable to go any further. And then I felt a calm come over me, a feeling that said it was all right.

The elderly man lowered his hand, holding Wesker's wrist as he plunged the needle into his IV. The black fluid was ejected from the syringe, and I swore I saw the veins of the captain's arm pulse and glow with a bright red. Then that haze seemed to thicken, engulfing everything around me, until it finally enveloped me.

I awoke once more in the waiting area, my eyes having to be pried open physically due to the difficulty I was having. It must have all been a dream, a really bad dream. However, sometimes I wasn't too sure, and this was not going to be the exception. I jumped up from my chair and ran through the doors, the ease with which they swung open making it seem more likely that it was all a nightmare. There was no blue haze, the nurses' station was bustling, and as I neared the room that I thought to be the captain's I was met with the sight of two officers standing at the closed door. Nervously I took a step towards them, noticing that the two men were vaguely familiar, and more than likely they knew me. "Is he…?" I trailed off, unsure of what to even ask.

The one to the right nodded at me, leaning over to open the door. "Make it quick Miss Redfield."

"Thank you." My tone was full of sincerity, and I made a note to never forget that kindness. Once I'd entered I heard the door close behind me, and I was met with the same scene that I'd walked into last night, the only difference being the absence of fog. Despite the nagging that I felt eating away at my brain about how I knew the location of his room I tried to ignore it, but every detail was the same. His heart was beating at the same rate, that chair was exactly the same and in the same position, that same bruise flawed that same side of his face, and his bandage was stained with the same amount of blood. Though I had all of these details reemerging to the top of my mind I kept walking towards the bed; if it was all real then… I leaned over slightly, placing a hand on his face, his skin cool to the touch. With the palm of my hand pressed into his cheek I caressed his face with my thumb, and I sighed in relief when I saw his chest rise and fall with his deep breaths. My other hand searched for his and I grabbed it tightly. Ever since I'd arrived at the hospital I just wanted to thank him for saving my life.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he died. He was a decorated officer, he'd managed to accomplish much in his life, the city looked up to him, and because he was trying fulfill his duty to serve and protect he was lying here in a coma. All I'd suffered were a few bruises but he was at Death's door. And there was nothing that I could do… "I don't know if you can hear me," I started, already choking back tears and struggling to keep my voice strong and steady, "but I just want to say thank you. Thank you for saving me. Don't give up Wesker. If you were willing to die for me… then I'm asking you to be willing to live for me too." Inhaling sharply I leaned down to him, pressing my lips against his forehead before resting my own against his. Were my actions appropriate? Who gave a fuck? No one had done anything like that for me before. I'd saved Dawson and Ty's lives a few weeks ago and got no gratitude for my bravery and efforts, but I refused to deny someone their deserved due. "I am not leaving this hospital until you wake up," I whispered.

Then I felt it, the twitch of his fingers. It started out so small and subtle that I thought I was imagining it, but then I could feel him squeezing my hand. It was soft but damn it I felt it. As if I'd been struck by lightning I shot up and hit the nearest red button I could find on the hospital bed, not letting go of his hand. "Someone get in here!" I called, feeling his grip grow stronger. Then his eyes began to open slowly, the brightness causing him to squint. "Captain Wesker?" I leaned over him again, catching his gaze and smiling wider than I thought I was capable of.

"Claire?" Before I could confirm his identification his eyes snapped to the ceiling, his chest rose once as he took in a quick breathe, and he seemed to freeze up in that position.

I felt my breathing speed up as the monitor lost its rhythm, the dreaded flat line piercing the air of the hospital room. "No, no, no!"

Then his chest fell, his body began shaking violently, and the monitor came to life with beeps so rapid that there was barely any rest between them. As his body continued to shake I realized that his grip on my hand had not diminished…

Where were those fucking cops?!

I heard people behind me fussing, nurses and doctors giving orders while one or two simultaneously asked me what happened, but I couldn't answer when I didn't even know. They rushed around me, trying to convince me to leave, but I couldn't let go of his hand, and he wasn't letting go of mine.

I heard one of the cops calling to me before he lifted me up and pulled me away from the bed, but the hold that Wesker and I had on one another was too strong. I heard more yelling, more orders from the staff, and suddenly Wesker's body stilled, and I no longer felt him gripping my hand. As his body went limp his head rolled to the side, his blue eyes staring directly into my own, and the cop finally pulled me away. As his hand slipped from mine I felt my heart drop, fearing that this was it for him.

I was forced to go back to the waiting area and in that spare time I decided to text Chris and my parents to update them although I wasn't sure what to say. All I could tell them was, "He woke up but something happened. They made me leave the room." It didn't take long for Chris to bombard my phone with messages asking if he was all right and if they needed to come down, but I assured him that when I needed to leave that I would contact them. When I finally got the time I checked my voicemail, hearing a badly sung rendition of the birthday song by Amanda, and I realized that I'd completely forgotten that I had turned nineteen yesterday. The dark events had completely overshadowed what was supposed to be my night of getting drunk being able to let everyone connected to me through social media know that I was at the Spencer Halloween Bash. Sure I could still claim that, but then I'd probably be up to my ears in questions, and I really didn't care to rehash it. Speaking of which Amanda hadn't text me to ask if I was okay, but I didn't expect her to watch the news to find out anyhow. Ty, however, had sent me a text questioning my whereabouts, probably more concerned about birthday sex than anything.

As I decided to put my phone away and pretend he'd never texted me I heard footsteps coming towards me, and I looked up to see two nurses in their scrubs stop before me.

The blonde nurse looked around quickly before nodding to the brunette next to her.

Brunette Nurse seemed uncomfortable as she stared me down. "What happened back there?"

Surprised that they forewent asking how or why I was in there I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, my curls shockingly holding up still. "He woke up I guess…" I didn't know what to say to them. I'm sure there were right and wrong answers but they weren't giving me any hints.

"You went in there and he suddenly wakes up and then goes into cardiac arrest."

I remembered hearing that the percentage of people who survive cardiac arrest is extremely slim, and before I knew it I had lost my shit. "Oh my God is he okay?!"

The blonde nurse answered quickly, "By some miracle he's stable. Now, tell us what happened? That man died three times on the operating table, he shouldn't still be alive and he shouldn't have woken up as quickly as he did. What happened?" I couldn't tell if they were angry at me or what, but if they were that made no sense. Perhaps they felt that I'd made their job harder, but there was no way in hell that my presence could have affected a man that was in a coma.

Yet as their glares proved to be unyielding I caved recalled what happened last night, and now that I knew it couldn't have been a dream I blurted out, "Maybe you should ask Dr. Spencer! He was in the room last night, he-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Brunette Nurse snapped. "Dr. Spencer has been in his room since he left the OR last night and he hasn't woken up since."

There was no point in asking her to repeat herself; I was sure that she wasn't going to change her response, but it seemed that I had to change mine. If it was all a nightmare then how did those details match up exactly to what I'd dreamed?

The blonde opened her mouth to say something but her phone dinged, prompting her to check it. She elbowed Brunette Nurse who gave me a parting glance that was meant to tell me to stay put. As they disappeared through the doors I hear them begin to whisper, about what I wasn't sure, but not too long after they left a male doctor came out.

He seemed to be preoccupied with a chart in front of him. "May I help you with something ma'am?"

I supposed it was odd that I was just standing there in front of the door, but I wasn't really concerned with my placement in the hospital right now. Since it would have been rude to ignore him I said, "I'm just waiting."

"Which patient?" he asked.

"Albert Wesker."

Unexpectedly he said, "Oh yes, he's free to go."

My eyes were so wide that they began to water, forcing me to blink hard. "I'm sorry but I meant Captain Albert Wesker." Surely he'd heard me wrong.

"Yes," he repeated, "Captain Albert Wesker? Of STARS? He was just cleared to leave."

Folding my arms over my chest I shook my head a few times, "That-that's not possible." In a firm voice I made sure to repeat the details of his hospitalization. "Albert Wesker just woke up from a coma. He sustained a gunshot wound. To his head," I added clearly. "The nurses said he died three times in the OR. He _just _went into cardiac arrest."

"Yes." He nodded once, staring at me as though I wasn't understanding what he was saying.

He might as well have been right; I heard the words but I wasn't understanding how he could be speaking them

"You can go see him but he should be getting dressed at the moment-"

I gave him no time to finish. Fed up with what had better been a sick, cruel joke I pushed him aside, hearing him call out something after me. I didn't give a shit if he took it as assault; he'd just said really unbelievable things to me that couldn't have been true and I wasn't in the mood. I saw the cops from this morning standing around the nurses' station drinking from Styrofoam cups, and they nodded to me with smiles on their faces. I picked up my pace, almost running to reach Wesker's hospital room. When I rounded the corner I saw him pulling a black, V-neck sweater over his head, stopping at the sight of the muscles beneath his skin. I was even a sucker for deep dorsal lines, obviously any part of a man that was well-toned. His jeans seemed to be just a bit too loose for him and they hung low, a detail that gave me the chance to see the indentations on his lower back that I refused to refer to as dimples when a man possessed them. I found myself wondering what the front looked like, but I scolded myself. What was important right now was finding out what the hell he was doing.

Before I could alert him to my presence he turned around, his eyes quickly going over me before he returned to the task of getting dressed. He turned around and plopped back down on the bed, grabbing a pair of boots and shoving them on. As he tied them he absentmindedly asked, "Have you been here all night?"

Noticing the fresh, white bandage on the side of his head I took a step forward. "Yes. And I don't think you should be leaving."

My two cents was ignored as he got to his feet and grabbed the zip-up jacket from the chair I could've sworn I'd occupied last night.

"I'm fine," he muttered quietly, zipping up the jacket. He reached down into the chair once more and produced a pair of sunglasses that he immediately placed on his nose, ignoring the fact that there was no need for them. As if I wasn't standing there he started forward.

Holding my hands up I reminded him of what happened last night, hoping that he truly had no clue what was going on. Maybe he thought it was a flesh wound, maybe he was experiencing some weird brain damage that made him incapable of feeling the amount of pain that I was sure he should have felt. "You were shot!"

Still walking towards me he repeated more clearly, "I'm fine."

He was a foot away from me and as he closed in I pushed at his chest, managing to stop him in his tracks, but he stared down at me as though I was more of a pest than a person. "This is the last time I'm repeating this story to anyone," I seethed, unsure of why I was angry. "You were shot in the head, you died three times on the operating table, you were in a coma, and you just miraculously recovered from cardiac arrest. You should be here in the hospital!" I finished loudly, feeling my face grow hot as I realized how confused I was. This was frustrating to me that everyone was acting like this was normal, like he could just get up and leave after all of that without requiring any monitoring. My chest was heaving, an embarrassing thing that I pretended not to notice, but I was sure that he had.

His gaze softened and he instantly changed the mood of the conversation by asking, "Where do you live?"

My face scrunched up in bewilderment as I answered, "Cherry Creek."

"I'm in Applewood." Without expanding on why that mattered he walked right past me, but it didn't take me long to catch up with him.

"Wesker!" I called after him. Through the whole elevator ride downstairs I was trying to convince him to stay, to elect to be monitored. When he began showing signs of a headache I became even more worried, chasing after him as he headed through the front doors. We stopped in front of a black limo with tint designed to hide the inside completely.

The driver who had been leaning against the vehicle put out his cigarette and opened the door. "'Morning Mr. Wesker," he greeted, his tone showing that the two of them were familiar.

As I saw him nod to the driver I stopped and asked, "What the fuck is going on?"

His hand resting against the top of the open door, Wesker turned to me, unperturbed by my question and language. "Cherry Creek is three minutes away from Applewood; did you want a ride home or not?"

I give, I thought to myself, scoffing. I slid into the car, scooting over until I was at the other side.

Soon after, Wesker slid in as well, closing the door behind him. He sat across from me quietly, pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling up and down on the screen. He sure did know how to make me feel silly too.

While he checked on his messages I was sitting there throwing a fit about him making a decision for himself in regards to his wellbeing. However, I had a right to be skeptical at the least; this wasn't normal, something was going on and I wanted to know what it was exactly. So I told the driver we were stopping at his place first, because I wasn't going to let him go inside and faint while no one was around. When we arrived at the gated community, he had to lean out the window to punch in the security code as I'd expected. Cherry Creek was upscale, but Applewood was supposedly where visiting movie stars would rent their houses. From what I'd heard the houses were very modern with more windows than necessary providing a view into overpriced homes that looked like a kid's Lego project. Everyone in Applewood had a spacious backyard with pools and Jacuzzis, everyone left their curtains open because they felt safe and possibly wanted to show off, and rumor had it barely any kids existed in this community.

As we drove through the neighborhood I saw a young couple jogging together, the grins on their faces saying that they had just finished agreeing about how perfect they were. An older gentleman shuffled to his mailbox a little farther down, waving as we passed by in the limo. As we neared the end of this street I saw Wesker put his phone away, and as I expected the car came to a stop in front of a white house with a black, metal roofing material. The first half of the house was one story while the second half had two.

He moved to get out of the limo without a word to me, but I quickly got out behind him and followed him up the walkway. We passed by the two door garage and came to the first of three sets of steps. For a moment he lingered at the bottom, seeming to think on whether or not it was a good idea to attempt the climb. After maybe fifteen seconds of deliberation he finally took a step up, pacing himself while I stayed close behind him. Did I want to have to catch him if he fell? No, but I really didn't have much of a choice since that dick driver wasn't leaving the car. The house had more windows than it did walls, and despite the lights being out there was a clear view inside thanks to the sunlight. I could see a living room with an expensive, white carpet that was occupied by a black, leather U-shaped sofa to my right, to the left of the house I saw the inside of a kitchen that was pretty impressive. I heard him unlocking the arched, wooden double doors though, and when he slipped inside I was quick to follow, lest he decide to lock me out.

Once inside I followed him up a set of black stairs that weren't connected or set into the floor, but rather set into the wall, but at least he had a rail. I was quick to employ the use of the rail as well; I didn't trust these things, and I didn't look forward to going back down them later either. When we made it upstairs he appeared to be a bit winded and made his way down the hallway until he reached the final room.

He finally seemed to relax when we stepped into a large bedroom. He flicked a switch on the wall that caused a set of blackout curtains that were accompanied by a whirring sound to cover the windows. The room became dim and it would be completely dark if the bedroom door hadn't been open. Set in the center of the room was a black-sheeted bed that was elevated by a white, circular platform. When he stepped on it to sit on the mattress the platform came alight with a light blue, making me feel like I wasn't used to any luxuries. I neared him as he removed his boots and sat up against the cushioned headboard with his hands up as though he were questioning my presence.

"Go home Claire," he said in that chillingly, deep voice.

"Why?" I asked as I neared the center of the room. "So I can be reminded why my mom aspires to work so hard when I go back to our… normal house?" The air was thick with tension, and I realized that perhaps I should not have mentioned his home. It stumped me that he could afford this house when I was sure that it had to be over one million dollars. Then that dream came back to me. Before I could stop myself I asked, "Is Spencer your father?"

Instantly he inquired in a defensive tone, "Who told you that?"

"He did… I think…" I wasn't sure why I added that last bit in.

"You're tired Claire," he said more calmly.

So he wasn't denying it, but he wasn't confirming it either, and I really needed to know if anything that I witnessed was real last night. Honestly I wanted him to deny it, to tell me no and thereby confirm that what happened was merely a nightmare. Or maybe I did go to his room last night and I was just half asleep, maybe I wasn't sure anymore of what was real and what wasn't because I was so tired. Oftentimes I did dream something but felt that it was real and someone had to tell me otherwise.

"Captain Wesker-"

"Call me Al," he interjected, "I'm not your captain. If you insist on maintaining some form of formality then at least simply call me Wesker."

Nervously I tried again. "Wesker, there's no way it's medically possible that they let you leave the hospital today."

Vexed by my refusal to let it go he said for the hundredth time, "I'm fine."

"You say that but you don't seem like it."

"Claire just go."

"Wesker you saved my life!" I nearly yelled. "So you telling me you're fine isn't good enough to keep me off of your back. You have no idea how much I owe you, and I'm not going to pretend that I don't. So if I have to be here every day to check on you then I will. Now tell me are you hungry?"

He wasn't but that didn't stop me from going downstairs to his kitchen that was as modern as the rest of his house. As I looked through all of his brown cabinets overhead I began to become irritated that I had to hunt for a can of soup. I came across the bowl and the pot first, until I finally managed to find a can of chicken noodle in the last cabinet with other canned goods. The electric stovetop set into one of the cabinets heated up quickly, and I made sure to wash the pot out thoroughly as I didn't wish to upset the Zen or whatever the fuck he had going on over here. When I got back up those suspicious stairs got to his room I presented him with the bowl but he set it onto the stand that protruded from the side of his headboard.

His enforced silence left me standing before him feeling quite silly that I was still in costume, and I was pretty sure that after a whole night I looked crazy. "You can go now Claire."

It took me a while to admit that I probably should leave. "Wesker?"

His brow jerked up.

"Thank you again for saving me. And I owe you a lot more than chicken noodle, but if you don't want me to bother you then I have no choice but to respect that."

After a moment of pause he said, "Thank you Claire."

Taking that as a positive response I nodded to him and backed out of the room. As I left his house I found myself once again wondering exactly what was going on here. To quell my inquisitiveness I promised myself something that seemed to ease my mind just a bit so I could sleep tonight: I would be back. After all, even if this whole thing hadn't been so interesting… he most certainly was.

A/N: Sorry for that ending… but I gotta go to bed and mistakes made are because of that. I meant to update Electio first but uh… I'm coming across some difficulties. I know what's supposed to happen, but the actual writing of it is proving a problem for some reason.

Frozenheart7: Thank you, I'm still working on where it's supposed to lead. Got an idea of it though.

MysticWolf71891: I'm glad you're enjoying it. And thank you, just recently his brother joined him, but at least he's not alone anymore.

Scarease: Thanks, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter.

Malika84: Thank you! It's gonna be a lot of suspense, many more RE characters to pop up and fill in roles, and sexiness (hopefully). More and more things will be revealed, and I'm actually having fun with that part.


	4. 4

A/N: Totally threw off my whole planned timeline for this. I wanted a specific chapter up by Christmas… I suppose it's better this way. It'll be choppy and seem like I skipped over daily things that are more important than I realized if I did it like that. Had I gotten this up by Christmas… let's just say the Christmas event that occurs in this story would have seemed like it made no sense at all. Buildup is good. Thought I'd learned that with Optio.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil or its characters. I don't own any other mentioned copyrighted foods, vehicles, or items. I only own this story and the original characters I created.

Apicem Rapax

"The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame."

November 1, 2014

I hadn't realized how early it was until after the limo dropped me off at home. Only eight in the morning and I still wasn't getting any sleep. Apparently my parents had crashed, so I snuck into the house; right now I didn't want to be bombarded with questions about what happened because frankly I wasn't sure. Another problem that surfaced was Ty: he'd stayed up all night partying and because he was still drunk and high off his ass he decided it was a good idea to come by and "give me" my birthday sex. Of course I hadn't asked for it, and honestly I wasn't as into it as I pretended. Because my parents were asleep I was able to act as though I had no choice but to be so quiet, but he was probably so whacked that he didn't even notice. I felt him squeeze my ass a bit too hard as I rode him, glad that I was facing away during the act. Could you blame me?

My mind was elsewhere no matter how hard I tried to escape, and thinking of Captain Wesker while having sex with someone else wasn't the best idea. Yet, when I did think back to him it seemed that I began to enjoy myself a bit more. After what seemed like a half an hour Ty came, and I was happy that I could _finally_ take a shower. My uninvited guest was excited about that until I shut him down and showed him out as quietly as I could manage. Today just wasn't going to be a normal day. As I rinsed the conditioner from my hair I ran my fingers through my tresses, detangling as best as I could.

"Claire?"

In fear I jumped, trying to see through the clouded doors of my shower, unable to make out a figure that could have been responsible for it. I chalked it up to me just hearing things. There was no one there… As I turned to once more face the shower head I tried to enjoy the feel of the warm water against my skin, and I wished it could have washed away the events of the past night.

"Claire."

This time I knew I heard it. "Hello?" My inquiry echoed somehow despite the heavy stream of water, and it made my bathroom seem as alone as it should have been. "Dad?" I called after realizing the voice sounded more male, but a whisper could be tricky to ID sometimes. This time I opened the shower door, peering through the steam of my bathroom, seeing no one, not even a crack in the door from my bedroom to let me know if someone had come in. Nervously, I let my hand drop from the handle, opting to leave the door open as I managed to ignore the cooler air of the room. Like a scaredy-cat, I refused to face the stream again, and even worse, every time I blinked I was anxious to open my eyes again. My fears were not entirely unfounded, and to an outsider this point needed to be made clear.

After last night I was sure I'd suffer lingering effects, and later today I expected my parents to pester me to reach Dr. Hartman. There would be sleepless nights, night errors when I could sleep, every many in a crowd would be Ashford, and every loud noise would be a gunshot. I was prepared for it, but I knew sometimes I probably wouldn't be. Some days I'd give in to fear, unable to convince my brain that the memories were just that: memories that couldn't' hurt me. Without looking, I turned the handle, shutting off the shower, and tugged a towel from the rack just a foot away. I could do this…

* * *

><p>Hands invisible to me were running over my skin, leaving behind tingling sensations that wrung a moan out of me. Fingers danced against my torso, an impossible number covering every inch of flesh of my breasts, creating a pleasure so great that I began to writhe. Warm breaths were being released against my neck, not like the shallow pants I was barely managing, and as I opened my eyes to locate this visitor I was met with darkness. I wanted to sit up but I couldn't and when I attempted to struggle I felt a familiar sensation occurring near my clit.<p>

Unable to stifle myself any longer I released a prolonged, "Ahhh!" A finger was stuck into my mouth, provoking me to suckle at it even though I'd no clue who was here. Was this a dream? Had Ty come back? Dream or not this visitor was working wonders, and I didn't want them to stop anymore. "Please," I begged as soon as the digit was removed from my mouth, feeling what I assumed to be an erection pushing against my opening. "Oh!" I yelled as my faceless lover tried to desperately to penetrate me. However, the difficulty posed was not being taken seriously. "Ow!" I screamed in protest, urgently attempting to get up now, but I was still pinned to my bed. "Stop!"

Abruptly I was free, free from that hold, free from those fingers. My sudden freedom had made my struggle seem so unnecessary, dramatic in a way, but as I searched around me for the perpetrator I tried to ignore my soreness and place my attention on focusing my eyes. Then, there in the darkness I could somehow see a pair of eyes that looked so familiar to me, but I couldn't remember whose they were. As I reached out in an attempt to grab at whoever was there a hand reached out to mimic my own. It wouldn't deter me. As I leaned forward I heard a growl coming from the entity, a sound that forced my heart to skip a few beats as it attempted to once again find its rhythm. Just a bit closer…

Suddenly a full-throated roar burst from the chest of whatever had been waiting in the darkness, throwing me onto my back once more. My wrists were pinned to my mattress, as I shut my eyes and kicked wildly at the air and screamed so loudly that my throat began to ache from the sudden strain on my vocal chords.

"Claire."

That voice again, that whisper. How could someone be so calm when I was being attacked by God knows what?!

A throaty chuckle full of contempt boomed into my ear, and as I felt myself growing weak from my struggle I felt a sharp pain piercing my throat. It felt like fire penetrating my skin, tearing through the flesh with ease and enough resistance to let me know that it was happening. Somehow I'd freed my arms, flailing wildly and yielding no results as I screamed and thrashed at my attacker. I hit at my neck, catching nothing despite the fact that I was most certainly still feeling as though I was being bitten.

"Claire!"

As I heard the urgency with which my name was being called this time I opened my eyes, swatting as a form materialized above me. A familiar face was not keeping me from attacking, and as my father struggled with my hands I continued to scream in horror, the pain in my neck still fresh.

"Claire calm down, you're okay!" Somehow he pulled me up, forcing me into an embrace that also served as a restraint for me. Rocking with my body, he continued to shush me, but I couldn't say anything more. I didn't know what I saw but whatever it was couldn't be labeled, and it couldn't be shaken. Whatever it was, I was sure it was still going to come for me again.

As I came down the stairs I could hear my parents and Chris talking from the kitchen in hushed tones. Perhaps they thought I had I gone back to bed after my father shook me awake from that nightmare, and I would have had I not been afraid to fall asleep again. I lied in bed for a while longer, pressing the palm of my hand into my forehead and occasionally I'd run my fingers through my still-damp hair. It took forever for me to catch my breath and I cried for at least three minutes as I stared up at the white, rippled ceiling above. Everything felt so real, the pleasure, the pain, the horror… Eventually I became tired again, but since I was so afraid that the nightmare would pick up where it left off I forced myself out of bed and slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and some house boots. I took a moment to tie my hair into a fishtail braid that hung over my shoulder and figured it would give the illusion that I tried a bit before coming down. "Morning," I muttered, grabbing a piece of bacon from one of the plates on the kitchen island.

"Way past morning," Chris said back softly as if too much volume would cause me to shatter.

Shooting him a glare that was meant to initiate our usual sibling-shared snark1 I shot back with, "You know what I mean."

"Claire?" My mother's tone was as soft as Chris' had been, and she held her hands close to her abdomen. Something super motherly was going to come out of her mouth. "Maybe we should call Dr. Hartman."

"Right on schedule," I brought my hand up to my mouth to catch any piece of bacon that attempted to shoot out.

"Sweetheart," she said quickly, knowing that if she didn't get her point in quickly that it would never be presented. "You witnessed something horrific and you may be all right now-"

"Are we sure about that?" Too late. I looked to my father, silently addressing his success in extricating me from the hell my brain was stupid enough to subject me to despite the fact that it would have been healthier for all of me to cope rather than be subjected to something worse than the actual event. As a matter of fact the nightmare had nothing to do with the shooting, but who was I to question the way the mind chose to function? Right now my voice was heavy and deeper than normal due to fatigue and not being warmed up for the day, and I acknowledged that anything I said would come out sounding like I was underestimating the impact of the circumstances. I wasn't though. "Look, I'm gonna give it a few days and then I'll decide. Right now I just… I just wanna get some rest."

Always the one to run from the problem, Chris said loudly, "We can take you somewhere for your birthday if you want. Last night wasn't exactly the grand ball everyone expected."

"No, it's fine." I was distracted as my father shuffled through the mail and something appeared to catch his attention.

As my mother peeked over to see what he was staring at she looked as if an old wound had been reopened.

My dad slid two envelopes over the counter to me.

With a furrowed brow I picked them up noticing there were no return addresses on either. When I opened the first I found a simple card inside that read, "For Your Birthday" on the front. Inside there was a message that was written in neat cursive that said, "Wishing you well on your birthday. Whatever dreams you choose to follow, I'm sure you will achieve them. –A. Wesker." There was a check that was fastened with a paperclip that was for one hundred and nineteen dollars. Finally, something managed to bring a smile to my face.

Of course when Chris snatched the card from me I was left standing there like an idiot with my hands still in front of me. After reading the message aloud he said, "Damn, Captain Wesker just gave Claire one hundred nineteen dollars for her birthday. How clever," he added sarcastically, prompting me to snatch it back from him.

Finally my mom seemed to calm down. "Well that's awfully sweet of him. Who's the other one from?"

With a little less haste I opened the second envelope; I wasn't sure who else would have sent me something for my birthday. "From me to you," I read aloud, flipping the card open, "Have a happy birthday. Thanks for attending my day on yours. I hope to see more of you. -Lord Ozwell E. Spencer…" The handwriting was flawless, like the kind that you would see from all those years ago that would be considered calligraphy… It was so intricate and perfect that I strained my eyes to make sure that it wasn't typed out.

Once more, like we were kids again, Chris snatched this card from my hands and his eyes flew open. "Whoa!"

Angrily I slapped him on his arm as hard as I could, causing him to wince and hiss in pain. Taking back my envelope I wished that I had just let him announce what he'd found. It was a check for one thousand nineteen dollars, and the reason for the check was listed as, "collector's item purchase." He was helping me avoid the taxes too.

"What is it?" our dad asked.

"A thousand and nineteen dollars." I'd intended to speak clearly but it came out barely above a whisper. I mean, my parents were rich but strangers never gave me money like this, especially not ones that were multibillionaires with better things to do in their spare time than write out birthday wishes to a college student they'd just met. Still in shock, I put the card and check back into the envelope, and looked back up to my parents who'd been staring me down so intently that I began to feel unnerved.

As if she struggled for words to break the silence my mom shook her head subtly before commenting with false amazement with, "Wow, you must have really made an impression on him."

More silence settled in the kitchen as I fought the infectious phoniness that my mother exuded. There was no way that we could dead the situation if we didn't talk about it. "No. I didn't." My plain declaration seemed to bring her act to a screeching halt and I was sure that the awkwardness couldn't get any worse since I'd managed to block her attempts to inject some happy into the air.

For once it seemed Chris was the voice of reason and the only other person who cared to find out what was going on. "What happened?"

Aligning the envelopes in my hands and clicking them against the countertop I tried to remind myself to leave out the part about Spencer in the hospital room- the part that may not have happened. "The doctors said that Captain Wesker was cleared to leave this morning despite…" I trailed off, biting my lip nervously because I didn't know what my family would think. "He died three times in the OR." My voice felt so small as the weight of those words bore down upon me. Death was not met by the average person, casually parting with them so many times in such a short amount of time; usually he took someone with him. "After they removed the bullet from him skull he went into a coma. I saw him and-"

_Don't mention last night._

"He started to wake up. I felt him gripping my hand and he was looking like he was going to be fine." As I heard the heart monitor blaring erratically like it was right next to me I realized that it was already starting, but I tried to pretend that nothing had changed. "Then the doctors said he went into cardiac arrest." My tone had changed drastically from unsure and frightened to a tone that denoted casualness that was employed when talking about things as normal as the weather. "Then they said he was free to go. Apparently Spencer called a car for him and I went to make sure that he got home okay."

"So Spencer's awake too?" my dad asked with a frown.

"He must be," I replied with genuine uncertainty. There was no other way he could've sent me money.

"Well," my mom began, tucking stray strands of blonde behind her ear, "it's highly irresponsible and unethical for a hospital to send him home after that. Actually it's preposterous that they wouldn't want to follow up on what Richard Dawkins couldn't even deny was a miracle."

"He seemed to have some problems with his equilibrium maybe. He wasn't too eager to start flights of stairs."

"Then I'll be calling Dr. Davies later on today to question the hospital's judgment." Even though my mom was a plastic surgeon she had no problem reminding others that she had to attend medical school too. Ethics classes were a bitch from what I heard, and she was no fan of those either.

I didn't want to talk about that anymore because the whole thing was messy, discomforting, and confusing. If I thought about it too much then I would end up thinking back to last night and… It never happened, I said to myself. It couldn't have. "Chris what happened to Ashford?" My question surprised me even, yet it shouldn't have; it was all linked, but I expected to flinch at the mere mention of that guy's name.

"That's the thing." Chris' mood changed, his brown eyes filled with disappointment.

"Chris what happened?" My dad's tone was firm, probably an attempt to indicate that we all needed to get a grip.

"Alfred Ashford wasn't there when we all went down to booking. Even worse: he's not in the system." There was a silence that had swept over the kitchen, worsened by the absence of any outside noise. No birds, no children, no cars. When he saw that no one else was bold enough to break that silence, my brother took a deep breath, preparing to drop another bombshell on us. "We went out to his house to put a security detail on him- just to make sure. But then the officers we sent said they were damn near attacked by some guys in black suits."

"And they just let that happen to them?" my mom asked incredulously.

Chris chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "They said they were assigned the detail. They were higher in power than the RPD."

"What?" My mother's voice was only getting higher. "Were they state police?"

"I don't know." Chris walked away from the counter, head down and hands on his hips. "I don't know," he muttered to himself while my parents and I exchanged glances. None of us were letting this go, but I knew that deep down we probably should have. Redfield persistence would do to us what curiosity did to the cat.

November 2, 2014

There were changes occurring within me that were abnormal, and frankly frightening. My wound was healing, the bleeding coming to a stop, and my headaches were lessening in intensity. After Claire left I'd gotten hungry, wolfing down at least six servings of whatever I could make. Yet despite my gorging, my voracious appetite would not subside. At some point though, my body gave up hinting that it required more sustenance, and I was able to leave the kitchen. Everything I'd eaten barely tasted good anyway. That left me with time to question what was going on.

"Umbrella Corporation this is Esmerelda, please provide your identification number."

"A19197960," I said clearly even though I was sure the stone-voiced woman probably knew it by heart by now.

"What can I do for you Dr. Wesker?" Her tone held a bit of annoyance; my requests were never simple.

"Personal call to Dr. Spencer."

I heard her click her tongue disapprovingly. "Now, now Dr. Wesker you know how hard it is to get in touch with Dr. Spencer; there's a waiting list and you may not get a call back for months. Did you want an appointment for a phone meeting?"

"No."

Without a parting word I hit the end button on my phone and set it down on the counter, dreading the next move that had to be made. "Fuck," I mumbled, snatching the phone up once again, prepared to dial Spencer's cell. Before my finger could hit the green button on the glass screen, my screen brightened and the phone vibrated in my hand.

"O. Spencer," the top of the screen read, and I swiped to answer.

For a moment there was silence, his breathing barely audible from his side of the line, but it was there. It seemed he was in the mood to hear me beg today, but I would not feed his ego any more than I already had. He had to answer for himself at some point, and that point was now. "How are you feeling Dr. Wesker?" As usual his voice was laced with its typical condescension, a mental tactic that he employed when he knew his intentions were being questioned. Of course, he would sometimes use that tone when he was doing something as simple as ordering a cup of tea.

Calmly I said, "Because of your actions -whatever they may have been- I'm exceeding my own expectations." To control my temper I began preparing a cup of water for tea, coming to the conclusion that such a mundane task would somehow assist in maintaining a cool demeanor.

"I suggest you stop asking questions already Albert." His response was not a snap; Spencer relished in living with the belief that he did not lose his composure.

Defiantly I asked, "What is happening to me?"

"If you behave yourself," he paused for a moment. "Nothing."

I saw the screen of my phone light up again out of the corner of my eye. He'd hung up. This time I let my cell drop to the counter, bracing myself against the stone surface. Before I could grow angrier I heard the doorbell ring, a nuisance that caused me to flare my nostrils and exhale loudly. Storming over to the door, I was incapable of thinking of anything other than that haughty tone and he dared to take with the ones who were responsible for keeping his head barely above the water. Without realizing it I had reached the door and I pulled it open so quickly that the person on the other side jumped in fear.

"Jesus Christ Al!" my colleague exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of his face.

Will was not my enemy, but today he would do. "What do you want William?" I turned away from him and started for the kitchen again, not sure why I was headed to that particular room.

I heard him trying to catch up with me. "Oh so I'm 'William' today?"

"What?!" I roared, twisting my torso to look at him, and the sight of the terrified man caused me to soften. Exhaling slowly, I went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water; it was the only beverage my colleague would accept. He stopped on the other side of the counter, taking a seat in the stool just across from me. I slid the bottle over to him and stood there while he took a few sips. After working with me for so long I'd expected William Birkin to be damaged, but surprisingly he had developed coping mechanisms to deal with the extremes that I presented. However, my extreme was mainly displayed when I was angered, and though it seemed to still scare him at times he knew that I would pose no physical threat to him.

"Are you done?" he asked boldly, recapping his water. I would let him have that. "Onto important matters: I don't feel comfortable digging anymore."

I'd figured as much. "I just got the call."

"I have my family to think about Al. As much as I consider you a brother to me…"

Since it probably didn't sound right to say aloud I finished his sentence for him. "Your wife and daughter come first."

He nodded. "Spencer is pushing for a switch in our approach. Batna will be back burned." Finally he said, "I just wish that I knew how you were still alive." Spencer would not allow him that knowledge. "I could run tests of my own Al. You don't have to be in the dark about what happened."

"I know." It was not a yes or no, but rather an admission that I wasn't sure if it was the best idea. I doubted this was the only thing bothering my old friend; he was far too skittish today to have received word that we would be granted some clemency for our failures. I was sure that Spencer knew that we hated human trials; it was senseless killing that they'd been tricked into agreeing to. Not wanting to think of it in its true sense I asked, "What else Will?"

Prepared for the question he pulled an envelope out of his jacket and tossed it down on the counter for me. "It was under our lab door this morning."

I picked it up and opened it, pulling out a folded piece of white paper with flawless cursive filling the page. "The Ashfords will never forgive your actions against us. Ours is a name that will live on to surpass your own, and even if we were all to die out we would still be revered to the highest degree. Consider what occurred at the party to be merely a warning, and an actual attempt on your life would have resulted in the loss of it. Revenge shall still be taken because despite the fact that 'An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind,' without me there has been nothing to see." Just as I was about to comment on the feminine form of writing I saw the signature in the bottom right corner, "Alexia Ashford." I almost threw the letter down onto the counter, staring up only to find that Will was already awaiting my gaze.

In a low voice he said, "She's back."

* * *

><p>Usually I didn't drive the little Corolla my parents had bought me upon my high school graduation, but I had takeout today, and I didn't want to risk it getting cold or falling off. I mean, it wasn't like I had been invited or asked to bring takeout but I felt that I should. Quickly I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, wiping under my eyes in any mascara was smudged beneath. With a sharp exhale I questioned my motives, and despite telling myself time and time again that I was doing this because I owed a debt I knew I was doing too much. Too much by my standards anyway. I was wearing mascara, my hair was down, I was wearing skinny jeans, and a long-sleeve V-neck with a push-up bra for Christ's sake. I fanned myself quickly once I realized that I was about to psych myself out, and I needed to remember that this was not as serious as I was making it seem.<p>

As I walked to the door I saw the light come on just above it, obviously he'd heard my car pull up, and I swallowed hard at the thought of him turning me away. Before I even came to a stop he opened the door, and I saw him standing there in all his blond glory. His hair was perfectly swept back, his eyes hidden by those shades he wore when we first met, his jeans not too tight but with that right amount of hang. He had on a black scoop-neck tee with short sleeves which showed off his muscles, and I mentally kicked myself for even letting my mind wander there.

"Hi." My greeting was warm and friendly, but inside I felt like I'd already fucked up.

Wordlessly he stepped back to allow me in, and I took it as a good sign.

I heard him close the door behind me as I peered in the direction of the kitchen, hoping that he accepted what dinner I brought with me. Turning to face him I was surprised at how close he was to me, so surprised that I almost jumped, but I reminded myself not to be so dramatic. "I know it's late but I just wanted to check on you. And maybe get you to eat Italian?" I added hopefully, lifting the white, paper bag up for him to see.

Finally he broke down and smiled, gesturing for me to head for that damned kitchen where it was impossible to find anything.

As I took a seat at the counter I pulled out two cardboard takeout boxes. I set one next to me, assuming he would sit in the stool next to me, and I opened one of the plastic pouches to access my black fork. Before I dug into my four cheese lasagna I looked up to see him pulling a bottle of wine from a shelf, pouring himself a glass before holding the bottle towards me to ask if I wanted any. "I'm not a wine person. I can do a water." It was nice of him to offer but it seemed everyone was trying to turn me into wino lately.

When he turned to grab a water from the refrigerator I saw those damned dimples again as his shirt hiked up just a bit. He took his seat next to me, setting my water down slowly.

"You're not supposed to offer me alcohol anyway," I teased, attempting to cut off a piece of lasagna.

"You're not supposed to complain," he countered with a smirk.

I could only smile back at him as I continued to struggle with the mess of cheese, pasta, sauce, and meat. "How are you?"

Something about the way he looked at me in that moment made my cheeks warm. "I'm fine. It comes with the territory of being a cop." After his first bite he looked thoughtful, turning his body towards me a bit. "What about you?"

Swallowing down my mouthful of food I nodded, albeit hesitantly. "I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

With a nervous laugh I countered with, "Jesus, Wesker you're the one that got shot in the skull." I looked away for just a second, but in that time his stare became one of genuine concern, a look that _I _should have had on my face for him. I wasn't sure what he felt, how he processed things, or exactly how much he could take before he cracked. However, I was sure of one thing: I'd be there to see it. Albert Wesker was very interesting.

Snark is being used as a noun more and more frequently, however, I do understand that that doesn't make it right. It just seems that Claire would be one of those people championing the right to use verbs or adjectives as nouns. We can also partially thank Joss Whedon for this.

A/N: I did not realize Dr. Hartman was the doctor on Family Guy so that wasn't intended. Also updates for things are slow because Ripsi is having a difficult time from getting fed up and giving the finger to her job to struggling to figure out the next step in school while hunting for another job. It got real too quick.

frozenheart7: Thank you! I just know how anxious people can get because I do when I'm waiting on an update!

Ds: I can't seem to stay away from experimenting with the Claire/Wesker stories ;)


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